


Don't get used to it

by SkyOfDust



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Fenders, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-16
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-03-30 20:28:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 55,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3950659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyOfDust/pseuds/SkyOfDust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Companions like Anders, Fenris or Varric, they were not meant to matter, there were no stories to tell about them."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I'm French. And no, I'm not bilingual. If you find any mistakes - and you surely will - please tell me.  
> I have been obsessed with Dragon Age II for a while, and then I began to read FF's and then I discovered Fenders and I just fell in love with that pairing and here I am, writing on their relationship. Because we KNOW there's something going on between these two, they're just so stubborn!
> 
> So this is the beginning of... well, a story. I don't know how many chapters I'll write. It takes place during the Act 2 and may last until the end of the Act 3.
> 
> I want to thank Kerfanna who takes time to read and correct this lame work.  
> Une pensée pour ses yeux massacrés par mes abominables transgressions à sa si belle langue.

"You know she won't be able to resist any longer!"

Isabela tried to touch Bianca, but Varric drew away and shook his head.  
"Of course she will. You can't corrupt her."

Fenris swallowed his wine and put his cards on the table. He was not going to win tonight. He listened to Isabela and Varric with distraction, his attention more focused on the mage sitting next to him. The abomination was more silent than usual and Fenris knew something was wrong. Not that he really cared, but he was curious. The mage eventually would not shut up had it been another night.  
"Bianca, tell him he's wrong about you. I'm sure you're more fun than that."  
"Don't listen to her, Bianca, she's a sneaky pirate and will stab you in the back before you could say 'thaig'."  
"Point taken" Fenris commented without looking at them. "I'm off, I don't have anything more to bet."  
"Oh, I have some ideas to wipe your debts."  
"I don't consider myself indebted to you since you cheat almost every time."  
"Oh, oh, point taken!" Hawke repeated before showing proudly his cards. "But I'm the winner tonight!"  
"Wait, Anders hasn't shown his hand yet" Varric said.

Everyone shared a glance before bursting into laughter. The mage was terrible at playing cards and it was obvious by the look on his face that he did not really have a good hand.  
"Anders?"

Anders looked up and furrowed his brow.  
"Yeah? My turn? Uh, I'm off."  
"What's on your mind?" Hawke asked. "You've been unusually silent."  
"Just tired" he answered before putting his cards on the table. "So, how much do I owe now?"  
"Nothing. You're just too busy spending coins for that clinic of yours. No one here would take the little part you use to eat once a month. Except Isabela."  
"Hey! I'm not that heartless."  
"She's not" Merrill confirmed, playing with some elven stuff Isabela gave her back after winning it.  
"Thanks, Kitten. See?"

Hawke cleared his throat with a smile and shrugged his shoulders. The pirate did like that reputation of hers, anyway.  
"What do you do with your winnings, Isabela?"  
"Viveka told me a few days ago she currently knows when you win at cards" Fenris teased the pirate.  
"And what business did you have with Viveka, lanky elf? Just tell me you got hired and she oils you up before you…"  
"Hawke's business, of course" he cut her off with a snarl. "They know everything at the Blooming Rose and we always want to know what they know. Including how many nights you spend there."  
"Did I hear that right? You went to the Rose without me, Hawke?"  
"Yeah, I think I was traumatized by your 'apostitute' joke last time."  
"Well, remember not to bring me along next time" Anders spoke. "Viveka keeps trying to convince me to work there."  
"I'd surely spend even more nights there if you did" Isabela added with a wink.  
"I'll… consider it" he answered with a big smile. "Or if I find an 'apostitute' I'll teach her that electricity trick you love so much."

He rose on his feet and said a quiet 'good night' before leaving the table and the Hanged Man. Hawked stared at the door long after the mage left.  
"He's weird tonight, isn't he?" he asked, giving a shrug.  
"More than usual?" Varric asked. "Maybe. It hasn't been that long since we returned from the Deep Roads – you know he hates it there. And that thing with Feynriel has been obsessing him for a while. I think you should bring him to the Dales so he can talk to the boy."  
"Fine. You and Isabela come along. And I need another warrior, just in case" he added with a glance at Fenris, who nodded silently. "Merrill, do you wish to come?"  
"No. You know that last time Keeper Marëthari thought I had changed my mind. She's so stubborn. Anyway I would not return to them, I have friends here. I talk about you, of course. No one in the alienage is actually my friend. Last night I was leaving home and that boy, who often wanders around the tree, ran towards me and…"

Hawke cut her off before she began babbling again.  
"Got it, Merrill, you're not coming. But one day, you'll have to face them again."  
"I'll leave you" Fenris said, rising up to his feet. "Let me know when you wish to go, I'll be at my mansion."

Hawke smiled and Fenris shrugged his shoulders. The man seemed surprised the elf did not decline the offer since it was to help Anders. Fenris was about to say he was not in the mood to struggle about the “I-don't-wanna-go-if-the-abomination-comes-along” routine, but he really was not in the mood to talk about the mage. Hawke had always been on the healer's side, anyway. This battle was lost by inches. Plus, he was curious to know what happened to the boy. He just waited for the moment when the boy would say “yes” to the demons and transformed into one of those very ugly abominations that tried to kill everyone without any instinct of survival.  
"See ya, lanky elf."  
"Broody" Varric said as a goodbye.

Fenris left the Hanged man and sighed in relief as the terrible stench eased. And now what? As usual, he would return to his decrepit mansion, drinking wine alone, thinking about Danarius and the day he would finally crush his heart. He was anticipating this moment and yet it filled him with a terrible dread. Since he'd met Hawke he began to seek other comforts : Friendship, laughter, the shared joys of completing quests with the others, these other things that were clouding the single purpose he’s had for so many years. He enjoyed the companionship, even if it meant suffering through the company of an abomination and a blood mage. However, what was he supposed to do once his own quest fulfilled?


	2. A sidelong look

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fenris chases Hadriana. It leads to interesting matters.  
> What if Anders did not say what he thought? What if he he had more respect than he showed?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I have some issues with "rise" and "raise". I did not get the difference between these two. Sorry about that.  
> The chapter just sets a little bit the "romance and feelings issues" of the characters. The background will appear in a few chapters (I meant that yes, there will be a real quest and not JUST fenders).

    They were on their way to Sundermount when several men appeared in front of them. Anders reached his staff immediately and saw Varric touching Bianca's trigger.  
"Hunters" Fenris spat.  
"Stop right there" a voice spoke from above. "You are in possession of a stolen property. Back away from the slave now and you'll be spared."  
  
    Fenris was about to respond when Hawke glanced at him and grinned.  
"They'll never learn, will they?"  
  
    Anders smiled. That was Hawke: what a good sense of style he had. They all grasped their weapons and jumped into the fight. Hawke shouted out orders, though they’d been fighting together for long enough that no one really needed them anymore.  
"Fenris, you take care of Varric, I'll protect Anders. Isabela, you know what to do!"  
  
    The two warriors prevented the hunters from getting close to the mage and the dwarf and Isabela took their enemies from the rear. They soon enough got rid of them all, with a few cuts and a few bruises – nothing they needed Anders for. The mage knew they would not let him heal them. Hawke kept saying that battle wounds were so damn hot, Varric agreed with him, Fenris would rather be dead than be healed by magic and Isabela moved so fast she was rarely touched by a blade. They were about to move towards Sundermount again when they heard a moan. It took seconds for Fenris to cross to the hunter and grab him by the hair.  
“Where is he?” Fenris demanded, before slamming the hunter’s head into the ground.  
"Please don't kill me" the hunter begged.  
"Tell me!"  
  
    Fenris repeated his gesture and the boy moaned again.  
"I don't know! I don't know, I swear! Hadriana brought us. She's at the holding caves, north of the city, I can show you the way!"  
  
    The moment the boy said that last sentence, Anders knew what was about to come. He looked away when Fenris answered that he already knew where to find the caves. The boy pleaded again, but it was in vain.  
"You chose the wrong master" the elf added.  
  
    There was a disgusting noise, followed by silence. And he, Anders, the healer, was the dangerous one in the party? That was so unfair.  
"Hadriana! I was a fool to think I was free!"  
"And here we go again" Anders whispered so that only Varric could hear him. "I guess we'll see the boy another day, won't we?"  
  
    Varric shrugged and Anders walked away, without paying more attention to Fenris and Hawke. He did not care about delaying the meeting with Feynriel. He was just so jealous of the attention the elf got from Hawke. He knew it was foolish and childish, he just could not help it.  
Varric followed and spoke to him quietly  
"Blondie, the boy is going to be okay. A few more days won't…"  
"He is not. I… just hope he has been able to deal with the dreams. I would not wish his life on anyone. Betrayed by his own mother."  
"She did what she thought was best for him."  
"Yeah, as my parents did. Don't you see, Varric? The templars turn the parents against their own children, they make them fear their own blood and flesh! They…"  
"We must go quickly, before Hadriana has the chance to prepare… or flee."  
  
    Fenris' angry voice echoed and Anders sighed. This was not the time for another lecture about mages' rights. He joined his companions, followed by Varric, and nodded to the silent question he read in Hawke's eyes. He prepared his “Yeah, let's go, it's okay, I'm not mad at you” eyes but all he succeeded in was a “We'll talk about it later” expression on his face. Surely that was why he could not win at cards.  
  
    They arrived in front of the caves and Anders sighed again.  
"Is there any chance Hawke will stop dragging me into some cold, cramped place where the roof could collapse and trap us all until we starve to death?"  
"Nope" Isabela answered. "Look at it this way: If we were going to starve to death, at least we’d have time to…"  
"We must be careful" Fenris interrupted. "There were many such holdings once, especially in the mountains, where individual slavers kept private pens. They were designed to protect against raids by fellow slavers. No doubt it's why Hadriana chose this place."  
  
Hawke glanced around and laughed.  
"Maybe she wanted to redecorate. Add a few flowers."  
  
    Anders smiled at the poor joke. The lamer they were, the better. But Fenris did not smile.  
"She's not a flowers kind of woman, he simply answered."  
  
    Maker, did he not have any sense of humor, the bastard? They entered the cavern and they immediatly came across a corpse emptied of the last drop of blood it contained.  
"See for yourself. The legacy of the magisters."  
"Blood magic" Anders simply commented.  
"It's a society where mages rule. They find many ways to justify their need for power."  
  
    Anders tried to ignore the accusing tone and did not respond. He was tired of the 'Mages are all the same' speeches. He had realized they were shorter when Anders did not answer. But sometimes he could not help it, he had to reply – not that he hoped he could change the elf's mind anyway; that was when he spoke first.  
  
    They finally found a young elf who opened her eyes wide when she saw them, all covered in blood.  
"Are you hurt? Did they touch you?" Fenris asked.  
"He almost sounds concerned" Anders murmured sarcastically to Varric.  
  
    He got a punch in the ribs in response, as the young elf explained how the mages had bled her father.  
"Why? Why would they do this?" Fenris asked.  
"It's a demon at work" Anders answered. "By this point, there's nothing human left inside."  
  
    Fenris gave him a sidelong look and Anders sighed once more. He did not show it but each time he was compared to this kind of monsters he was hurt, for he had done nothing selfish since he was an _abomination_. He was a better man than before and could not regret joining with a fade spirit, with his friend.  
  
    After some discussion, Hawke told the tiny elf to go to his estate, catching Fenris’ attention.  
"I didn't realize you were in the market for a slave, the elf said in a harsh tone.

  
    Anders rolled his eyes. He was so stubborn he could not even see what kind of man Hawke was, after all this time. Once Anders had thought that if Hawke was a mage, Fenris could have reconsidered his idea of magic. But now he was not sure about it.  
"I gave her a job, Fenris."

  
    As the former slave stammered an apology, Anders tried to clean the dust from his coat but gave up when he saw the red stains. Usually, he was far enough from the battle not to be reached by blood, but the caverns were narrow and he had been covered with it in their previous fight. He had found a very talented tailor in Darktown who could get the blood out, but he was also very expensive. Although, to Anders, this coat was worth the price.  
"Let's find Hadriana, and be done with this place."

  
    Anders could not disagree and they all followed the elf through the corridors.  
"Were you never tempted by blood magic, Blondie?"

  
    Anders blinked and looked at Varric. He was not used to "such questions from the dwarf.  
"Never. I'm not so foolish I'd play with that kind of magic.  
"You made a deal with a demon" Fenris said without turning around. "I'd say it's on the same level of foolishness."  
"Justice is no demon."  
"And to believe that does not make you a fool, of course" Fenris replied sarcastically.  
"Boys" Hawke spoke. "Not now. Varric, do not raise that subject please, we get enough with those two."  
"Sorry" the dwarf apologized, raising a hand.

  
    It was not until several fights that they found Hadriana. Fenris felt his heart racing in his chest as he walked towards her, raising his sword. And then he heard about this sister, about this part of the past he was not ready to let go. Yes, she knew him well, guessing it was all that he sought.  
"You want to know who you were, Fenris? Then let me go."

  
    It was so tempting, just like a demon's offer. Give her something and then you'll have what you desire. But Fenris had sought his vengeance for so many years now he could not let go of it. The moment he gave his word to that bitch, he knew he would not keep that promise.  
"Her name is Varania. She's in Qarinus serving a magister by the name of Ahriman."  
"A servant. Not a slave."

  
    It was strange to hear that part of his own past he could not even remember. He had wanted it. And it seemed so out of reach. So unreal.  
"She's not a slave."  
"I believe you."

  
    He could not listen to the voice inside of his head that said he was unworthy of anything if he did kill her. He could not see the consequences of what he was about to do. The lyrium was already activated and when he saw that look of fear on Hadriana's face, he could do nothing but feel satisfied. She had to die. His fist reached her heart and crushed it until the corpse was inert on the floor wet with blood. But it did not take the anger away. It seemed even more powerful, reaching his mind, blinding him from his companions who had helped him. It was like a fire in his veins, tainting his body with pain as the lyrium had before. That curse he carried for too long.  
"We are done here."  
"Do you want to talk about it?" Hawke asked with concern.

  
    Fenris heard himself answer with anger, again and again, pushing Hawke away from him, the only friend he ever had. Anders was not surprised. The beast never stopped barking and now was the time it finally bit.  
"May she rot and all the other mages with her."

  
    Anders was taking a step forward but Varric held him back, as Hawke was trying to calm the elf. But Varric did not understand that Anders was not angry and was not going to argue once more. He would have denied it if he was asked, but Anders felt compassion for the former slave. For that promise he had been forced to make and break because of this anger that filthy mages raised in his mind. For this powerful feeling that made him reject his only friends and seek an isolation he did not truly want. Everything was about vengeance in his eyes and Anders simply understood what it felt like to be that lost. But as these feelings were making their way in his mind, he suddenly felt like a fool to pity a man like Fenris. So he did the only thing he was able to.  
"And here I thought you were unreasonable" he said, regretting it immediately.

  
    Hawke gave him a harsh look as he put a hand on Fenris shoulder, who pushed it back. “What has magic touched that it does not spoil” were his last arguments before he fled. But Anders saw it. That look the elf gave him that he could not decode. He had never seen anything like this in those green eyes and it was like a dagger in his heart.  
  
________________________________________________________________________________  
  
    The following day, Anders heard about it but he could not believe it until he saw them a few days later on a Wicked Grace evening. His eyes slipped on the red scarf on Fenris' arm and the world seemed to collapse. It was written on their faces and Anders could not miss the clue. He hid his pain under a sardonic smile.  
"Ow, you two are going to hear from Isabela" he commented.

  
    They sat silently at the table and then Anders noticed Hawke's expression. It was sufficient to guess that, whatever was between Hawke and Fenris, it would not last, if it was not already over. Anders might still stand a chance, after all.  
"We no longer need to go to Sundermount to visit Feynriel" Hawke sudenly said with a worried look.  
"What happened?" the mage exclaimed, all other thoughts vanished.  
"I received a letter. We'll go see Arianni later and she'll explain with more details."

  
    Anders was about to ask more questions when Isabela finally appeared, a big smile on her face.  
"Well, well, well. I heard someone spent a night in another mansion than his."  
"This is none of your business" Fenris replied, scowling.  
"Isa, may I speak to you?" Hawke interrupted.

  
    He left Anders and Fenris, grabbing Isabela and pulling her away. The mage stared at the elf, examining him.  
"What?" he finally asked.  
"I can't imagine what Hawke sees in you."  
"It is done. Leave it be."  
"Well, good. I always knew he had some sense."  
"Do not make light of this. Leaving was the hardest thing I've ever done."  
"Oh" Isabela spoke, appearing by their side. "Will you two get over yourselves? You're like two dogs around a bitch in heat."  
"We were talking about Hawke. Not you" Fenris responded, looking away.

  
    Anders could not stop staring at the elf. He was lying to himself. He did know what Hawke saw for he could see it as well. The elf was just beautiful. Those markings he hated so much were just a part of all that nobility that tainted his whole body. From the green eyes to this silhouette Isabela called 'lanky'. He smiled so rarely every smirk became precious, as the words he spoke, no matter what he said. He had this thing in him that made him noticeable, desirable. Anders was about to make a list of his qualities in his mind but knew he would not suffer a comparison with his own.  
"Where is Varric?" he asked in a pathetic attempt to think of something else.  
"He said he'd return soon" Hawke answered after he ordered the drinks. "He's been busy these days. I think it's about Bartrand."  
"He's not the only who's been busy" Isabela said in a sensual tone.  
"Do not forget what I told you" Hawke murmured in a threatening voice.  
"Spoilsport."

  
    Hawke sat next to Anders and the mage blinked. It was not his usual seat, but he would not complain. Isabela began to talk to Fenris and the elf lowered his eyes to his glass of wine. No doubt he had to endure more than one dirty joke.  
"Anders, you don't have to come see Ariani. I know this has been troubling you and…"  
"I'm all right" Anders lied with a smile. "Lead the way, and I'll follow you, as usual."


	3. Trust and betrayal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there!  
> Thanks for the kudos. Did not think this story would even be read. But here we are and I really like to share this.  
> So, this chapter is like a first step on the "Fenders path", yeaaaaah.  
> Hope you'll like it.
> 
> By the way, je sais que j'ai des tics de langage en anglais, donc désolée pour les répétitions. Je préfère arpenter les chemins que je connais déjà plutôt que de truffer mes textes de millions de fautes (quoique, je suis sûre qu'il y en a tellement que ça ne se remarquerait pas, haha)

They had returned from the Fade two days ago and Anders could not do anything but thinking about it. He had heard him. He heard how the boy begged Hawke. Justice' presence was more and more intense and Anders had the feeling he was not thinking by himself. Hawke did what he had to do. It was not his fault if the boy was Tranquil. The boy asked. The boy accepted his fate. The boy gave up. And the boy thanked Hawke. This was what he wanted.

But Justice was roaring in his mind, their thoughts melting. The anger rose and there was no one to punch. His feelings were Anders' now.

"It's driving me crazy. Stop it!" the mage shouted as he paced alone in his clinic.

"I'll come back later."

Anders froze and turned towards the door. The elf was leaning against the door frame, arms crossed on his chest. He was staring at him. Someone to punch, then.

"What do you need?" Anders barked immediately.

Fenris never came unless he needed or wanted something from the mage. Anders treated him just like any other patient, but deep inside of him, he always felt the urge to kick him out and tell him never to come back. On his side, Fenris did not like coming either.

This evening was different, however. The elf wanted to see the mage. He wanted to see the human side of him. Since he met Justice in the Fade – and was the one who betrayed Hawke – he hadn't stopped thinking about how the abomination dealt with that demon inside of him. He had quite an answer already, as he remembered the mage talking to himself – or to Justice – a few seconds ago. He thought it would be a relief to see Anders fully human again.

"Hawke wants to see you."

"Why did he not come himself?"

"Because he thinks you're upset about what he did to Feynriel. Because he's too scared to come. You have to take the first step."

"Remind me of how it is any of _your_ concern?"

"Everything about Hawke is my concern" Fenris answered provocatively.

Anders did not respond and stared at Fenris. The elf expression was suddenly embarrassed as he realized it was just third-rated. Fenris was well aware of the mage's feelings and had sworn to himself he would not use that against the abomination.

"I apologize."

"This is the thing about you, Fenris. You do or say whatever you want before adding this fucking 'I apologize' on a very non-apologetic tone and you think this is sufficient. Words remain, whether you're ready to accept it or not."

"And you've come to think you don't do the same? You're the one who never shuts it up."

Fenris sighed as the mage remained silent. Something was totally wrong. He was not supposed to let the elf win. He was not supposed to have this hurt look on his face every time Fenris said something. He was not supposed to be so weak.

"I'll see Hawke in the morning" Anders said before sitting in front of his desk and grabbing his quill.

Fenris did not move. He stared at the mage as he wrote his manifesto, perfectly aware of this heavy atmosphere that would persist until he'd leave. Anders knew the elf would speak when he'd be ready. And as long as he remained silent, his presence was not so annoying. Even the elf was more pleasant than loneliness.

"What was it like?" Fenris finally asked, entering the clinic to get closer to the mage. "When Justice took over, what was it like?"

Anders froze again. He searched the accusing tone, he waited for the 'you can't control it' part and the 'you're a pet for that demon' thing, but only the silence responded his expectations. So he just put down the quill and laid on the back of his chair.

"First, it was terrifying. But I trust Justice. I've always had. He was just concerned about the boy, so I simply waited to be back in my body again. But… When Hawke… Justice frightened me with his anger. I thought, all this time, that I was corrupting him with my own feelings. But I think the anger is his, not mine. Not totally, at least. I said it, you can give me your 'I-told-you-so' lecture if you wish. I still think it's not too late. Justice is my friend and I won't let him down. Neither our cause" he added before grabbing his quill again.

"I felt quite the same there."

The mage looked up at the elf, who was staring at the basin of bloody water Anders did not take time to empty. He must have saved another life earlier. Again.

"When that demon made his offer. I did not have the feeling I was being myself. I heard my voice accepting the deal, though it just did not seem real, you know."

"That is the effect of the Fade" Anders commented. "Everything that can make you accept a demon's offer is used back there."

"Do you remember your Harrowing?"

"Yes."

And suddenly the talk was over as Anders' tone was firm. They returned to their usual state of mind and the elf fled the clinic quickly, leaving Anders alone with his thoughts. And Anders had plenty of thoughts to deal with.

He rose on his feet and began to pace again. There was a particular thought that obsessed Anders about that. What if Feynriel had been sent to the Circle? What if he had performed the Harrowing and succeeded? The Chantry laws forbade the ritual of Tranquility on any mage who succeeded in their Harrowing. The boy might still be a mage, with at least more freedom than the Tranquility gave him, if he had joined the Circle.

"He would have been killed just because he dared to dream! The laws can't protect the mages anymore!" Anders shouted at himself.

And Fenris, who had turned back to glance one last time at the clinic, heard his words and saw the flash blue light that crossed the mage's eyes. Something grew inside of him. Concern, perhaps. Little did he know whom he worried about.

 

"And you stayed?"

Hawke was not at his estate that morning, so Anders knew he would be at the Hanged man. However, he was surprised when he saw Merrill, Fenris, Isabela and Varric as well. Sure he was not aware of that meeting. He could not steal a moment to talk to Hawke privately and, without even noticing it, he came to speak about the time when he met the Warden-Commandeur.

"There was a blighter talking Darskpawn. Of course I stayed."

Fenris laughed quietly. He never truly believed in this talking darkspawn story. But when Anders talked about his time as a Warder – and it did not happen so often – he enjoyed listening these stories. They were damn worthy of Varric's, except that Anders enjoyed making a hero of himself instead of the Warden-Commandeur. Even the story of the Commandeur offering him a cat was so emphasized it looked like the world's end was coming.

"So you weren't so selfish you always say you were before meeting Justice" Merrill smiled as if she always knew the mage was some sort of kind soul sent by the Maker to ease the mortals' pain.

"Well, I could use the Hero's help while offering mine, I guess. Did not know that time that I was running straight into another prison."

"That you also fled" Fenris added with a snarl. "When will you abandon Hawke?"

Anders laughed and pointed an accusing finger towards the elf.

"Last time I checked, _you_ were the traitor."

"You would also be one if you were not already an abomination!"

"Take off your clothes, that'll be quicker."

They turned to Isabela who was staring at them with a big smile, clapping her hands.

"Come on, this is all exciting, how you fight for your lover!"

"Are you talking about me?" Hawke asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Of course I am. Look at these two! I couldn't make a choice if I were you. Maybe you can try a threesome or something. They can manage to turn all that hatred into a very angry passionate kiss and…"

"Write that down, Rivaini, instead of saying it out loud" Varric interrupted her with a wink.

Hawke glanced at Anders who blushed and hid his embarrassment behind a discreet cough. Surely, the warrior did not know Anders was not _just_ flirting. He had grown fond of the man since the beginning. And that man was the only one who did not notice it, actually, since he seemed more interested in the elf. Or even in Isabela, sometimes – though he knew the pirate could not be involved in a true relationship, otherwise they'd already be doing… things. His crushes were all meant to fail. As Anders', apparently, he realized when Hawke shrugged and looked away. Maker, that hurt. Fenris' eyebrows met and Anders could not see if he was satisfied or if he pitied him – both were annoying.

"Anyway, Merril, Isabela and Fenris, you're here because I required your help. Varric needs us for a little problem with Bartrand."

"Wait, what?"

Anders had stood up, fists on his hips, looking terribly hurt. Hawke had never gone on a quest without asking the healer before, and Anders had saved his ungrateful ass more than once. Even his sister, tainted with the Blight in those fucking Deep Roads he hated.

"You're bringing _them_ along and not me? I was in the Deep Roads with you, remember? Betrayed as you were! And you did not even ask me! You prefer to take that blood mage with you?"

That was not what Fenris had in mind when he asked the mage to talk to Hawke. But the abomination surely had a point. Hawke was running away from the situation by pushing Anders aside when it was obvious the man was involved in this crap, whether he wanted to or not. Plus, he'd rather fight beside the demon than beside the blood mage.

"I just assumed you needed a break" Hawke responded calmly.

"Well, you could ask before you…"

"You and I are perfectly aware that you'd never say no, Anders, would you be dying or what."

And now Hawke had a point as well. The mage crossed his arms but could not deny. Fenris smirked and nodded as Hawke was questioning him silently. The man gave his attention back on the mage and smiled.

"Do you wish to come, Anders?"

"You don't want me there, do you?"

"Stop it! I'm the one who needs help here and I say we might use a healer's skills. Blondie is coming."

"I would definitely use his other skills" Isabela added.

 

"Thanks, Blondie. You always manage to save lives wherever you go."

Fenris stared at the mage who shook his head and patted Varric. The dwarf had had the possibility to talk to his brother, to his _real_ brother, one last time, and Fenris understood how priceless it was. Madness had sneaked into Bartrand's mind and Varric had been ready to kill his own brother, at least in order to free him. But Anders was here and once again he had proved himself useful. As Fenris knew only how to kill, the mage knew mainly how to heal.

"We should move on" the elf said before turning on his heels.

There was nothing more painful than to realize one needed their friends more than they needed them. Fenris told himself he did not need anyone, or wanted anyone. But he remembered that night with Hawke, the way feelings had made him dream of things he could not have – happiness, of anything else. He was not free of anything. Of Danarius, of this anger, of these desires that squeezed his heart. Who's heart was being crushed now, uh?

"Fenris, are you all right?" the abomination asked as they made their way towards the door.

The elf looked at Anders and his nose wrinkled as the scent of medicinal herbs hit him. The odor was familiar, for he had been smelling it for some time now, fighting by the mage's side. However, now that he was aware of what it meant – that the abomination was surely more worthy than him – it became the most annoying smell he'd ever known.

"Do not touch me, mage!" he shouted as Anders was trying to pat him.

Anders sighed and drew away. He had seen how troubled the elf was, not that he would understand why. There was always something that made him brood.

As they left the manor and walked out in Hightown, Anders was suddenly by Hawke's side. The man smiled shyly at him and Anders understood the time had come.

"Feynriel…"

The warrior tensed and Anders sighed again. Hawke had always sided the mages' rights but he had known how to deal with maleficars. He was more balanced than Anders, for sure, who would have let Feynriel go free until he was the prey of another demon and lost the fight. Hawke had always made the most difficult decisions and not once Anders had the feeling he was mistaken, even when he disagreed.

"You did the right thing, Hawke" he just said, putting a hand on the man's shoulder. "Hadn't I done the same, that would have been a mistake. Well, surely I think the boy would be better dead now, but I heard him ask for Tranquility. He was desperate. You did the right thing" he repeated.

"Thank you, Anders."

Justice shouted his disagreement and Anders panted silently, as if a terrible headache had just struck him. He wanted to scream, run, shout at the spirit to shut it up, Maker's balls, just shut it up. But he remained silent as his internal debate continued. Then Justice took more and more control. The spirit wanted to tell Hawke, to ask for his help, to do something now about what Anders had discovered a few days ago, after they had prevented the mortal gas to spread in all Kirkwall and warned the Arishok about what was really going on. Justice wanted to take control over Anders' body and scream that a terrible injustice had been made. He wanted to hit Hawke as much as he desired his help for the Tranquility solution. Anders struggled during a few seconds and when his eyes met Fenris', he just looked away and told Justice to remain where he belonged : at the back of his head and nothing more. However, Anders knew he would need Hawke's help. But now wasn't the perfect time to raise the subject so he just said :

"I… I would need your help, though. Come to my clinic later. I'd wish to talk to you privately."

Fenris had unconsciously stopped walking as he'd seen a flash blue light in the mage's eyes. Why was he the only one who'd seen that? Or maybe the others did not care as much as he did. And why the man did not seem to be bothered that a demon was corrupting his soul?

"Broody?"

Fenris realized he was staring at Anders. The mage was returning the glance, and the look on his face was clear: 'Do not tell them'. It was more a request than a threat, the elf realized, as he saw the pain in the abomination's eyes that seemed to reflect his own. 'Please, do not tell them'. The apostate could not control it anymore, it was obvious. But he was so stubborn he would never admit how weak he was. He had to go to the Circle, there was no other way. Fenris promised to himself he'd do the right thing for once. And even if he had to betray his friends to protect them from a demon, he would. He had never been afraid of losing what he possessed, if he ever possessed anything. The abomination had to go to the Gallows, whether Hawke agreed or not.

 

His thoughts were confirmed after they chased Ser Alrik in the Mage Underground. The apostate had accepted a demon in his soul, was starting a revolution by freeing dangerous mages in Kirkwall and now he almost killed the girl he swore to protect because of that curse he voluntarily took upon himself. Fenris had not chosen to receive his markings. The filthy magic had been burnt into his flesh against his will. But the apostate had made a choice and was still convinced it was not a mistake. He could not be more foolish than that.

"I'll talk to him" Hawke said after he told the young girl to flee. "Would be better if you…"

"Got it" Varric said with a sad tone.

The companions walked apart, but Fenris did not move, watching Hawke climbing the stairs to the clinic. He hesitated and then discreetly followed before witnessing the scene between Hawke and the apostate.

"It's all gone wrong. Justice and I. We're just a monster, same as any abomination."

And Fenris heard from the mage's mouth all the arguments he'd been telling him. How he represented what the worst freedom would bring to mages, how he could not even trust himself and how the thing inside of him had turned into a creature of vengeance. He did not know how this talk ended in Anders kissing Hawke after saying he would not resist any longer. He did not know what was more painful: the fact that Hawke was willing to give that kiss back or the fact that Fenris let go of his chance. He felt a deep loneliness worm its way in his heart. He knew Hawke felt the same. But Hawke had found someone else. And Fenris was truly alone now. He was not ready to lose the few friends he had and it meant he could not betray the abomination. Yet.


	4. Heroes don't die

As time was passing by, the atmosphere became heavy between the Arishok and the Viscount. Hawke had been impelled in this rivalry without even noticing it. Something about him made people trust him to solve any problem. Fenris had the feeling he could earn everyone's respect. Well, maybe not everyone's, he realized when they heard a voice behind them:

"You! This is all your fault!"

Hawke raised an eyebrow and got closer to the dwarf who was pointing an accusing finger to the group.

"You and that blighter Varric Tethras."

"What did I do?" the non-bearded dwarf asked with a fake innocent expression.

Hawke smiled briefly before he tried to calm down the stranger, who's sons were so foolish they had gone to the Deep Roads alone.

"My boys aren't stupid. Foolhardy, maybe. But not stupid."

Fenris' discreet laughter was echoed with Anders' and they shared a glance, trying to stop smiling at the dwarf's face – surely it would not help him stop shouting. Suddenly, Anders' smile fainted as he understood Hawke was going to help the dwarf and he looked at his lover's back, hoping he would hear his silent prayer. He would not set another foot in those damned Deep Roads! But Hawke accepted to help the Dwarf and Anders lowered his head. He could not let him go to the Deep Roads without him. He had to go back there.

"Someday I'd surely have to ask why everybody seems to think I'm the one they should complain to" Hawke said as they made their way through Hightown.

"Well, in this case, I'm pretty sure you deserved it" Varric answered.

"Hey, it was _your_ expedition at the beginning. I just… you know, stole the show. That's what I do. Too handsome to be unnoticed."

"I really love your humility, Hawke."

"Did you really have to accept!" Anders suddenly said. "There are other people who can handle this!"

"We are responsible, Anders. We are the only ones who know the road. We won't be long, they can't have gone far into those caves. You don't have to come if you don't want to!"

"Of course not" Varric replied. "Who would need a healer and Grey Warden in a trip to the Deep Roads?"

 

 

They had not found the dwarves on the first day of course. The mage had remained silent, aware, hands shaking and breath speeding up at each step. Fenris and Anders were the first to return after checking one of the three tunnels that led to the cavern they had decided to camp in. Hawke, Isabela, Merrill and Varric were still checking the others, so they began to settle the camp. Even if Anders was able to feel the Darkspawn, there were other dangers down there. Like those horrible giant spiders.

The abomination lit up the fire and Fenris hissed at the sudden use of magic. He could feel it spreading in his body, heaving the atmosphere around him.

"Sorry" Anders said when he saw the pain look on Fenris' face. "I assumed… Well, sorry, I should have warned."

"I know I should be used to it after all this time. I don't really feel it on the battlefield, my mind is just focused on the fight. But…"

"I know" the mage interrupted. "That's why I try to heal you when you're fighting and not after."

"You what?"

Fenris widened his eyes and Anders looked at him with surprise. He thought the elf had noticed it, for it was pretty obvious he had not remained untouched by a blade in all those battles.

"Oh. You did not know?"

"With all your spells I would not notice! All the air is impregnated with that filthy magic of yours!"

Fenris was suddenly angry at the man. He had used magic on him without telling him! But at last, he had just healed him and the elf never thanked him for he thought he had never needed the mage's help before. Now that he knew the abomination helped him as well, he could not prevent the resentment that tainted his voice. He had a debt, now, did he not?

"You sneaky demon!"

"I'm sorry!" Anders cried when the elf approached him, all glowy and threatening. "I thought it was a solution, since you would not let me heal you after battles. Your attention is always so focused on the fight, I wanted to make it easier for you, that's all!"

 _"You_ wanted to make it easier for _me_?"

The firelight increased the anger on the elf's face and even if Anders knew he was not defenseless, he could not hold back the fear that rose in his body. Being there, in the Deep Roads, alone with the mage-hater and “I'll rip your heart out” elf, it was just too much for him. But Fenris could not think of anything else than the mage stopping casting spells and endangering himself just to heal his enemy without causing him too much pain because of his markings. How could he have not noticed? The magic had always risen waves of pain along his lyrium brands if it was used on him. He was just uncomfortable with the use of magic around him, but a spell used on his very own skin would certainly create terrible pain. He was as furious as curious. He wanted to know the reason why the mage would do such a thing. Were his intentions truly generous or had he understood he could use it against the warrior after a while?

"Please, Fenris, don't… **You will not touch him**!"

The cave was suddenly lit up with a new blue glimmer as Justice grabbed Anders' staff.

"Ah, you finally show up. Anders will not be able to hold you back much longer. You want his body for yourself and your damn purpose!"

**"I do not! Anders is my friend and I'll protect him against you."**

Fenris grasped the mage's collar and approached his face. He was going to call Anders, to call for the human side of the abomination, but he was interrupted.

"Easy, boys!"

Hawke had reappeared with Isabela and Fenris stepped back, ashamed he let his anger taking control just as Anders let Justice do so. It took a moment for them both to calm down but Fenris had not removed his gauntlet from the mage's collar and they remained too close. He finally let go, turned on his heels and sat far from the apostate.

"I didn't think about it" Isabela said suddenly, lost in her thoughts. "How does it work for Justice? Does he find Hawke attractive?"

"I _am_ attractive!" Hawke answered immediately, shocked.

"Yes" she conceded with a glance at his whole body. "But Justice is a spirit. Does he even know about lust? Poor thing. I figure he's watching all along when you and Anders..."

"He's not sitting on a chair next to the bed, you know" the abomination spoke.

Fenris stared at Anders who was surprisingly smiling at the pirate. He put his staff against a wall and sat, as if nothing had happened. Varric came back a few seconds later, followed by Merrill.

"Shit, I missed something, right?" he said.

"You have no idea" Isabela replied before chuckling.

 

 

Anders had declared he'd take the first watch and stayed there, sitting in the dust and staring at the cave corridors' entrances. There were three of them, in front of the wall he was leaning against. Hawke had not said a word about what happened between his companions and was now resting near the fire. Varric was snoring and Isabela was cleaning her daggers not far, telling stories about see and boats that Merrill was listening with shimmering eyes. Fenris fell asleep quickly but was awaken hours later by the feeling of magic under his skin. He rose up on his feet, sword in his hands, ready to fight.

"Shh, it's just me. The fire was weakening and it's quite cold. Sorry I woke you up."

Fenris glanced at the mage. His lack of exhaustion told him he had slept for hours: it should be Varric's watch by now.

"Why aren't you sleeping?"

"Well, Varric seems to sleep so well I couldn't wake him up."

A snore answered his response and he smiled. Fenris rose an eyebrow and the apostate sighed.

"I can't sleep, anyway. Not here. Not now."

Fenris nodded as Anders returned to his initial place against the wall. The elf hesitated and then sat next to the mage, keeping a respectful distance between them.

"So…" he whispered after the silence felt too awkward. "When you got closer to me on a fight despite the danger, you were healing me?"

"Yes."

More than once, the elf had not understood why the mage would reduce the distance between him and the enemies while Fenris was trying so hard not to let them pass his defenses to reach the apostate. Most of the time, it made him angry that the mage would be so careless and risk their lives. Plus, he had noticed the abomination stopped casting spells and thought it was a matter of mana or something. Now he had answers. Why his wounds were never as bad as it seemed in the first place. Why the pain went away in the middle of the fight. Why the injuries stooped bleeding with no reason. Just a little healing, enough to keep him alive and steady.

"I apologize for what happened earlier."

"You always do it afterward" Anders commented without the accusing tone he had the last time he raised that point.

"So I apologize for that as well" Fenris added with a smirk. "Though, that's what apologies are for. For mistakes. But don't get used to it, I won't apologize for telling the truth."

They heard a sound and both of them glanced at Hawke. He moved in his sleep and rolled off his blanket towards Isabela. He suddenly cuddled her like a pet and she moaned, still asleep. Fenris examined the look on Anders' face, certain he would see the same expression that crossed his own. But the apostate was smiling again.

Anders understood Hawke. He knew what it was like, to need someone so desperately you wouldn't even care about who you're bedding. Anders had been like that. He knew Hawke would never tell him the words he had himself spoken. The “want a sandwich?” had been quite clear about it. It was okay. Anders understood. Anders did not need anything more.

"He has always liked her. And you" he added as his smile vanished. "I was jealous of the attention you got from him. And then I realized it was not you who had the attention. It was just me who had not."

"You don't mean it" the elf said, surprised by the apostate's honesty.

"He chose you first. And he would have chosen Isabela if he'd thought they had a chance to last. It was me by default."

"Hawke loves you, mage."

Fenris' heart missed a beat. It was strange to discuss with the mage without anger or hard feelings. He could not remember a single talk that was not actually an argument. Even this time after they returned from the Fade, Fenris had managed to say something wrong. He was good at making mistakes.

"Hawke loves a lot of people. But not the way people love him. Do you remember that night when you were so drunk you could not walk?" he suddenly asked while moving closer to the elf.

"I remember there were more than one night of this sort."

"You confessed you… you would take me to the templars if Hawke…"

"Of course I would. That's a secret to nobody. You can thank Hawke for your freedom."

"I think you don't know what it means. I think you have no idea. Otherwise you would not say that."

Fenris was surprised that the mage did not seem upset about it. Worse, it seemed like he pitied the elf for his supposed ignorance. He was just looking at Fenris, his face blank, and nodded.

"Maybe one day you'll be able to see."

"Are we having another “mage against templars” discussion?"

"No, we're not" the abomination sighed as he looked away. "I'm just saying that despite everything you've told me, I still think highly of you."

"Sorry?"

"You're a great warrior. You fought for your freedom as I did for mine. And you even know when you should apologize" he added with a smirk. "I think you deserve more than what life gave you. And I feel sorry that your opinions are this way because of what you suffered. I hate thinking about what you lived in the hands of other mages and I understand why you feel this way with me."

"Is there any point in that praise, mage?"

"Don't get carried away, it is not about you, it's about me."

Fenris chuckled but waited for the mage to continue. However, he did not. The elf took a glance: the man had fallen asleep, his head resting on the rocks behind him. Good that the warrior was awake for the next watch, then. In some way, he liked thinking that it was him who appeased the mage's torments so he could take some rest. As if his company was preferable to loneliness.

 

 

The following day had been luckier. They had found two dwarves and the exit was a few hours away, now that they did not have to wander in the caves to find lost souls – the sons said their brother had fled to the exit when he'd seen a giant spider. But everything suddenly turned into chaos as the former Grey Warden warned them.

"Darkspawn! A lot of them!"

"What's your plan?" Hawke asked, aware that the man was more able to give advice in the Deep Roads than him.

"Since there will be no Darkspawn from the way to the exit, I say the dwarves stay here while we meet them. They'll be safe as long as we delay the enemies."

"Can't we just run?" Isabela asked with a deep sigh. "I'm good at that."

"They're too close, that'll be even more dangerous than fighting: there is an emissary among them. And we'd have to run for hours before reaching the exit. The Darkspawn know we're here, they'd gather and follow."

"But can we beat them?" Hawke asked, worried.

Anders took a glance at the group. Two rogues, two mages and two warriors. They should not even be worried.

"Those I feel, yes. There might be more that ain't close enough yet. We've faced worse, Hawke."

Hawke nodded and gave instructions to the dwarves as everybody drew their weapons. They took the corridor they just left and reached the next big cave before waiting their enemies; they could not fight in the tiny tunnels. It took very few minutes for the first Darkspawn to appear.

The battle seemed endless. Hawke was protecting Merrill and Varric while Fenris kept genlocks away from Anders. Isabela was nowhere to be seen, stabbing enemies from the dark.

"Move!" the mage screamed before casting a fire ball towards a group of hurlocks that poured from the tunnel.

Fenris obeyed. They were used to fight together. Battlefield was the only place they could trust each other. But the day had come when one of them had to be betrayed. Fenris was too busy and Anders' mana had him taking his last bottle of lyrium a few minutes ago. They could win this fight, for sure, but one distraction was enough, one little mistake. As Anders cast a spell towards an emissary that threatened the elf's life, the genlock that had passed Fenris' defenses was near, his sword slicing the air. It was quite small and Anders jumped back, so only his thighs were wounded. He killed the Darkspawn but by the time he was defending himself, the emissary had dealt with Fenris. Merrill tried to take care of it as Fenris was falling on the floor and Hawke still protecting her. Anders made his way towards the warrior, trying not to spend his last resources of mana, though it was too late for that now.

And suddenly, everything fell quiet, last darkspawn dead, and the people gathered around the unconscious elf who was bleeding to death. They were panting, sweating, but all their attention focused on the motionless body. Anders saw his own blood spreading in a little lake near Fenris', as his head began to become fuzzy. Healing demanded a lot of mana, more than attacking spells. Which he had not.

"More Darkspawn" he said, pointing the direction they were coming from.

He pressed his own cuts with his hands, knowing immediately that the blood wouldn't stop flowing until he'd healed himself. But the elf was just right here, under his eyes, paler and paler. Everyone knew what was going on when the mage asked for a bottle of lyrium. Merrill whispered she had used the last one a few minutes ago to deal with the emissary. The apostate could hear guilt in her voice and he shook his head. His decision was quick, obvious.

"It's alright. I do have a taste for dramatic adventures, though. Thought it was over after the Warden-Commandeur. I'm glad we met."

This was it. The goodbyes. Maker, he wished he had died for his cause, for his believes, for something that really mattered. But Hawke was the hero. As the Warden was. Companions like Anders, Fenris or Varric, they were not meant to matter, there were no stories to tell about them. If they had the chance to survive, their only role was to tell the great story of the One. Anders had always been a follower, even when he sought his freedom. Hawke was meant to be someone. Anders... he was nothing.

The mage looked up at his lover and nodded.

"It kinda hurts to admit it but you know he's your best chance. For all of you" he said with a glance at his other companions who watched silently. "And the dwarves" he added, knowing that reminding Hawke of his duty was the best way to convince him.

Fenris and Anders were badly hurt and Merrill knew better how to shed blood than how to heal – plus, that ability, whether it was dangerous or not, could make her cast more spells than he ever would be able to. Anders' mana was so low that he doubted to be able to heal Fenris before running out of it. It was pretty obvious he wouldn't be that much help if he had to fight again – he had what? six, seven weak spells left before total exhaustion? Three if he healed Fenris. The elf was more resourceful. Maker, it was hard to look at the elf, to see the lyrium he so desperately needed and could not reach, to watch the life that mattered more than his.

"You or me" he whispered to Fenris, still unconscious.

Before he could get an answer from Hawke, Anders put his hands on Fenris' wound, blending their bloods. The warmth of magic spread in his body until it reached his palms and he closed his eyes, trying to forget the pain that split his legs and the weakness that was insinuating into his very bones.

"Anders, don't do that" Hawke murmured.

But Hawke was not going to stop him. The elf's life was more important. It had always been this way. The elf was the first one in Hawke's heart.

"I'm a Grey Warden, love. I'm supposed to die in the Deep Roads. And I prefer to die while I'm still a handsome mage" he added with a smile.

Somehow, he was glad it turned out this way for both of them. This end was quite heroic and Hawke had friends to rely on. If they had gone this way, Anders would have betrayed him and died as a martyr or, worse, let the Blight take him. Yes, this was a good way to end all of this crap. Anders was just too tired of struggling. He had been struggling since the day Templars took him from home. And it was finally over.

A hand grasped his wrist and Anders opened his eyes, meeting Fenris' green ones. The sudden touch of lyrium made him narrow his eyes and the last strength of magic fainted before the apostate fell on the dusty floor, breathing deeply. But he could feel the darkspawn getting closer, so he rose up on his knees, crying in pain, and reached his staff.

"Go now, I'll distract them. I can't walk all the way to the exit and you can't carry me with the Darkspawn behind us. I offer you a diversion. Just go."

"Mage…"

Anders glanced at Fenris, who was still holding his wrist in a firm hand. The look on the elf's face was unreadable but the mage enjoyed this touch that he knew would be the last. He put a hand on Fenris'.

"Keep Hawke alive or I'll rise from the dead to kill you myself."

With a nod, Fenris released him and grasped Hawke's arm before running for the exit. His companions hesitated but followed soon after.

"We all accepted the risks, my friend" Fenris said to Hawke.

"No!"

It was the last word Anders would hear from Hawke and it was as heartbreaking as consoling.

The Darkspawn soon appeared and, by that time, Anders had let Justice take control, letting the ire that he had always contained shake his body in a few seconds. It did not matter if Anders died as a real abomination if Justice was able to save his friends. This was the way it was supposed to be, he thought. Justice built a wall of fire in the tunnel his friends had fled into and began to run towards an opposite corridor, hoping the creatures would follow. The spirit was not used to physical discomforts and the harsh pain in his legs kept him focused on his desperate run. Anders knew they would fall soon and die, alone in these tunnels he had always hated. He suddenly missed Sigrun, Nathaniel and the Warden-Commandeur. Even Oghren and his dirty jokes and terrible stench.

After a few seconds that seemed hours, the adrenalin and the spirit's will weren't enough to push Anders' body over limits. His legs crushed and he fell, Justice vanishing in the back of his head, tired.

"I win this one" Anders whispered, thinking that Justice did not help that much.

Before he could think of anything else, before hope could make him change his mind, he turned his shaking hands towards the cave roof and cast a little spell. If he had to die, he would take as many bloody darkspawn he could with him. Rocks fell with the whole world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Je sais. Cliché. Run out of mana, chose who lives and all that crap. Clichéééé.  
> But I hope you'll be surprised by the plot later. It's slow and it has not begun yet, I know.  
> J'arrive jamais à faire court quand j'écris, je m'étends en paragraphes introspectifs inutiles.  
> I've read this a thousand times and still find mistakes. I'm hopeless. So, I'm sorry for your wounded eyes.


	5. You're a bottle of lyrium

Thoughts wouldn't leave him. He could not think of anything else. The mage's sacrifice was beyond his comprehension. For years now they had been enemies. For years they had fought side by side. But for years Fenris had not doubted a second they would have killed each other, if it wasn't for Hawke they tried to leave their hatred behind from time to time. He could not understand why the abomination, who had dreams of freedom, who was in a perfect relationship with a man he loved, had to die for him, a former slave escaped from a foreign country, who had done nothing but disrespect him.

He started to pace as he always did when he came there. It had been sixteen days since Anders had been left behind, and Fenris kept coming to the cave entrance, obsessed with thoughts and regrets. The first days, he wasn't alone. He had seen Hawke coming on the morning and hidden himself behind a tree. The man had sat and talked. Even if the elf couldn't catch the words, he had immediately known he was talking to Anders. He had watched him. Sometimes a smile crossed his face, quick, and vanished in a second. Then Hawke stopped coming and Fenris guessed he had stopped hoping as well.

Fenris was not here because he hoped. He was obsessed with the past, as he had always been.

When he returned to the Hanged man, everyone was in Varric's room, sharing a drink – well, not _everyone_. Fenris sat and nodded when Varric poured ale in a mug for him.

"Where were you?" the dwarf asked after giving him a few seconds to put in. "I went at your mansion earlier, I was looking for you."

"Why?"

"We gathered so we could… make something for Blondie. You know… grieve, mourn, or make a party. In his memory."

Fenris thought it was a little too late but no one had come to think Anders dead as quickly as he had. They had denied it, again and again, delaying the moment the idea would strike them and knock them down. But here they were around this table where they had spent so much time together. Fenris glanced at his former lover. Something stirred inside of him. And when he thought about everything Hawke had lost, he lowered his head. Since the mage had died, the elf felt like he had lost something, just like when he had killed Hadriana. It did not feel the way it should. And it hurt really bad. He had hated the mage. He still hated him.

"So you gathered" Fenris finally commented with a glance around him.

"Yep. Got any idea?"

"I think everyone had the same one: drink."

Isabela and Hawke were obviously drunk, whispering in each others' ears before laughing, swaying on their chairs. The pirate suddenly rose on her feet and sat on Hawke's lap, letting her head resting on his shoulder. It was obvious the man had ceased resisting the pirate he'd been watching for a while. And she had not run away from him yet. Fenris guessed it was comforting to have someone to ease the pain after losing a friend.

Varric was just as usual and Merrill's cheeks were tainted with pink. Sebastian sat still before an untouched full pint. What was he doing here? Surely he was the most pleased of the apostate's death. Aveline was standing behind him, drinking her own ale slowly.

"I made sure Sunshine knows about what happened. He quite saved her life in the Deep Roads, that last time. Saved a lot of lives" Varric whispered. "But there was no one else to tell" he added after he swallowed hard. "It was just us."

Fenris had not considered the mage lonely before. But as he thought about it, he realized they were quite alike: they just had Hawke and a few friends to play cards with. What if it had been Hawke left behind that day? Fenris shook his head – Hawke was the only one who was surely never going to be left behind – and drank the ale, frowning because of the bad taste. He liked wine much better, but quite understood what the others were trying to do. It was just some kind of poor ceremony in order to move on.

"Maker, I wanted to feel that electricity trick once more" suddenly said Isabela. "I'm sure, with a little more time, I would have convinced him to…"

"Hey!" Hawke interrupted with a surprising big smile.

"Oh, the three of us, of course, sweetheart. You never told me if Anders actually showed it to you."

Garrett was about to answer when Merrill sighed.

"I asked him to teach me that trick."

Everyone turned to face the blood mage who blushed and lowered her head. Before anyone could answer anything, Hawke and Isabela burst into laughter.

"What?" Merrill said. "The way Isabela talked about it… I mean, every mage would want to learn something like that!"

"Trust me, they would!"

Everyone froze at the voice coming from the doorway.

"Come on, ain't you playing cards? I missed it!"

The intruder slowly made his way towards the table and sat, avoiding his companions' looks. He stretched his arm and grasped Sebastian ale before swallowing it until the mug was empty.

"I won't listen to you tonight" he said out loud before stealing Fenris' cup as well. "I wanna drink and I'll drink."

"Anders" Hawke said almost silently, pushing gently Isabela towards the empty chair beside him.

"You sound like you've seen a ghost. I might be a ghost. Guess the blood, dust and gunk prevent me from being all… ghostly."

He was right. His face was hidden by the dirt and his clothes were as scruffy as the rest of his body. He was recognizable only by his hair and his voice. But he was truly here, drinking a third beer as if he had not drunk in years.

"You know, Blondie, this ain't water."

But Varric ordered more ale by a gesture towards the waitress who had quickly passed the door, pushing his own towards the abomination. He was the only one who did not seem so surprised, as if he had always known the mage would return.

"I think he needs a bath. Do you think he needs a bath?" Isabela asked, giggling.

"I think I need to drink!" Anders repeated.

"You're right, Blondie!"

It took two hours before the non-dead mage drank too much. His head resting on the table, he was sleeping like he probably never had. Hawke had not added a single word. Fenris guessed he was afraid this was all but a dream he would wake up from in the morning, the pain excruciating and the memories haunting. This was the way he felt himself.

Fenris could not stop looking at the apostate, who's head was towards him. He wondered what happened, and what the abomination thought when he'd seen them gathering and laughing. Was he angry? They did not watch over him, they did not return for him, they just mourned him and moved on. He had all the reasons to be angry. _He_ would have never given up on a friend. _He_ was the one who always took care of anyone but himself.

"Hawke, he needs to rest, let's take him to your place."

Hawke glanced at Fenris, shook his head, and left. Just like that. Merrill followed him, knowing he could not return to his estate alone in this state.

"It's alright, Broody. He'll be in a better mood in the morning" Varric said while watching his friend stumbling towards the exit. "Blondie can stay here tonight."

With a sigh, Fenris nodded and put the mage's arm around his shoulders so he could lead him to the bed. Sebastian and Aveline had left earlier, when Anders' babbling had begun to be as annoying as Merrill's – they gave in the idea to get answers that night. Isabela had left them for her own room when it became obvious the atmosphere was too heavy for her jokes. Even Hawke had been too serious.

"Lyrium" Anders murmured in his sleep.

"You don't need lyrium right now" the elf answered in a harsh tone.

"You're a bottle of lyrium. Why are you talking?"

Fenris sighed again and pushed Anders on the bed with more violence than necessary. Why was he angry? Why was he hurt? Why were there so many feelings stirring his heart?

"Easy, Broody. I'll take care of him."

Fenris hesitated. That was clearly an invitation to leave – and Maker knows he wanted to –, but it felt like it would not be right.

"I can stay and help."

Varric was about to refuse when Anders fell from the bed and vomited onto the already dirty floor.

"Alright, stay" he just said.

 

"Am I dead?"

"Not likely."

Anders sat up and glanced around him, ignoring the pain that stabbed his head.

"I'd forgot what it was like to drink that much."

"No one ever knew, 'cause no one ever drank _that_ much."

"I surely did, in another life."

Anders looked up at Fenris who stood next to the bed, arms crossed. The elf was staring at him. He was seeing him. The skinniness, the pallor, the scars, the shadows under tired eyes. He saw all this and he thought that the mage had never deserved it, no matter how many wrong decisions he had made. Maker, was he going soft on an abomination?

"Varric left an hour ago. We found you clean clothes, I think yours are just…"

He showed the coat left on the chair. It was obviously shot. Anders sighed: he really liked that coat. However, he was more focused on his own body that, despite it was cleared of most of the muck, stayed although in an uncomfortable state of “I'm-all-dusty-and-bloody-and-I-need-a-bath-right-here-right-now.” He still had his pants on but the rest of his clothes had been removed and he was tangled in the crummy sheets. He got out of the bed with difficulty and sighed in release when he saw his boots still intact. Those ones never failed him – the barefoot elf would not know what it was like.

"I could use a little more sleep. Guess it'll be a very long day."

The mage had turned his back so he could put his boots on, and Fenris could watch the scars on his skin. They were not really ugly, barely noticeable in the semi-darkness of the room. But there were so many. Dozens of thin pale lines. Fenris had scars too. Lots of scars. Hawke as well. But they were battle wounds. These straight lines that crossed the mage's back were obviously not. A snarl escaped from Fenris' mouth.

"You slept too much, he answered before tossing the clothes across the room when the mage had laced his boots.

Anders tried to catch them but he was so slow that his hand began to rise when the fabric hit the floor at his feet.

"Aw, I'd think you'd be nicer with me since I died" he spoke with a smile, trying no to fall as he stretched out to take the clothes.

"You did not die."

"I did not, indeed" he just said to close the talk.

Fenris seemed about to add something but turned on his heels and left the room to give him some privacy. A basin of water had been put on the desk near towels. He cleaned himself quickly, knowing perfectly he would take the time later to get rid of every particle of dust on his skin. Once dressed and well shaved, he opened the door, closing briefly his eyes when intense light met his pupils.

"Drink."

Fenris handed him a glass of a mixture the mage recognized immediately: he gave it often to the elf when he spent the night drinking wine in his decrepit mansion. He thanked him and emptied the glass. It would take a few minutes to clear his head.

"So, what's next?" the mage asked to the elf who was leaning against the wall.

Anders gathered his scruffy hair in a ponytail. Fenris noticed how slow he was, how each movement seemed to be difficult for the man, even painful he realized when the apostate's nose frowned as he moved.

"Varric's talking to Hawk", Fenris said when Anders brushed past him to leave the room.

Anders sighed. During the days he'd spent trying to survive, he had a lot to think about, and Hawke was the center of it, of course. And then he came back and realized that the world had just kept rolling without him. Dying or living. Anders was so insignificant that it did not change anything that he died and reappeared.

 _"_ Andraste's knicker weasels, I should have slept longer. Is he mad at me? I don't really remember anything after my fourth – or fifth? - pint ."

Fenris smirked and did not answer. The man had never been really talkative, except when it came to “all mages should be locked up in towers”. Anders remembered their last talk, and that look in the elf's eyes before he was abandoned in the cave by the ones he loved so much. He needed to get out of here, so he just went down the stairs to the common room.

"Varric said you should wait for them here".

"I need some fresh air, it stinks in here."

"Says the man who lives in this stinky clinic in Darktown."

"I just spent two weeks in the Deep Roads. If I say I need fresh air, then I do need fresh air."

Fenris did not answer and followed him. Maker knows the man would use that excuse for quite a long time and for everything. Anders stopped when he was finally out, enjoying the smell of the shiny morning, and the noise of the crowd around him. He never wanted to be left alone one more time, but he knew it would certainly happen again. He closed his eyes and smiled.

"Mage…"

"Hmm?"

"Why did you… You should have left me, you know?"

He could not. That was all. He had seen the warrior and knew he could not heal himself and leave the elf there. He had known who's life was more worthy. He'd rather die. And he almost did.

"You were unconscious. You could not delay the Darkspawn. I ran out of mana. I could not fight more than a minute long."

Short sentences. Facts. He was being pragmatic, nothing else. But his decision, on the moment, had not risen from this reasoning. It had come from the inside, from his guts, and there was no way he would totally understand it.

"A choice had to be made, that's all" he continued to lie.

He opened his eyes and began to walk, expecting the elf to follow him. Though he did not check if he actually did. His footsteps were too quiet, so Anders had no idea he was behind him until he talked.

"There were others things that should have mattered."

"Like what? How awesome I am? Can't disagree with that point."

"Like Hawke."

Anders struggled to contain his anger. The elf knew perfectly Hawke would have made the same choice. Hawke preferred Fenris and the elf was still throwing this truth in Anders' face.

"Hawke is a big man. He could handle it – made it before. Plus, it did not take too long for you all to… doesn't matter."

"Here we are! You're angry, aren't you? What would you have us do? Mourn you for the rest of our lives?"

Surely the man had chosen his evening to reappear. Had he shown up at another moment, he would have seen they actually deeply regretted him. Fenris above everyone else. The elf wished he was still at the entrance when the mage had finally got out.

"Doesn't matter" Anders repeated, already tired of talking about it – and he would never, _ever,_ talk about it.

Fenris had seen it. The deep pain that passed on the mage's face. He added nothing, though he was sure the subject would rise again between them. Because Anders was not really angry. He was broken.

"Sorry for my reappearance, by the way. Guess you were quite happy the abomination was dead."

"Don't do that!" Fenris threatened in a terrible low tone that struck and stroke Anders' ears at the same time. "Don't you dare speak of things you know nothing about!"

The mage sighed again. How many times had he sighed since he woke up? Fenris, without knowing it, grasped Anders by his shoulder to make him stop. He wanted him to know that he cared. That he too could feel sorry for him, just as the mage confessed his compassion for the life the former slave had. But it might be a lie, after all. It was not about Anders, it was about himself. About the fact that _he_ had been chosen and he could not understand why.

"I mourned you too, in my own way."

"Yeah, in your own way. I can perfectly picture you dancing in your horrible mansion, drinking your expansive wine and laughing until..."

"Then it is true!" a voice said behind them. "Broody actually dances around the rooms all day in this mansion of his?"

Anders moved so Fenris would let go of his shoulder and they both faced the dwarf. Hawke was with him, his eyes fixed on Anders with sadness, uncertainty and relief.

"We were looking for you! I said 'stay at the Hanged Man'."

"Varric, I'm grateful, but the day I'll begin to obey you, I'll find myself naked in the docks talking to my staff after calling it 'love'."

"'That would be a sight for sore eyes' would say Rivaini"Varric retorted,knowing perfectly flattery did always work with the mage. "Broody, come. They need to talk."

"No they don't" Hawke said.

His eyes left Anders and he crossed his arms like a child who'd been refused an candy.

"Aw, who's brooding now?"

Fenris shook his head. The mage never knew when to shut it up. But he quite disagreed with Hawke's attitude. The mage was so weak it seemed he could collapse at every second, but the warrior did not seem to care.

"I have no time for this. I was absent for too long. People need me in Darktown."

"I needed you!" Hawke suddenly said. "But you don't care, do you?"

Anders laughed but did not respond. Fenris knew what it was like, to have something to say without being able to formulate it, to share it, to bare one's mind and heart. He had lost things because of this. And Anders would lose Hawke if he did so.

Hawke, on his side, could not hold back the words. In the cavern, he had felt abandoned while he was the one abandoning Anders. And then once out of there the guilt had just drowned him. He had fled in Isabela's arms to find some comfort and it had made things worse and better at the same time. And now that the healer was right in front of him, he wondered how they ended up here, with the desperate need to be with someone but not each other anymore. Hawke had needed Fenris. And Fenris had left. Hawke had loved Isabela. But she was not able to do so. And he had wanted Anders, who decided that their relationship was just not worth it. He had lost his father, his brother, the Wardens had taken his sister. He was not willing to give more.

"See? You two need to talk. You're not going to quarrel here, are you?"

"No we're not!" Anders shouted. "And we're done for now. I have things to do in my clinic."

"Fine" Hawke answered before leaving.

Fenris knew Anders wanted to call him back, to apologize. But there was a reason why he did not, so the elf stood still, watching this mess that was partly his fault because he had fled and Anders had stayed.

"Hey Blondie, I understand it's tough for you too, but Hawke…"

"Hawke is going to be okay, Varric."

The anger that wormed itself in Anders' voice was terribly frightening. Because he had never talked like that to Varric. Because even when he read his manifesto and his eyes glowed a bit, he was not that angry. Because he just stood there, his face blank, but his eyes burning with amber ire. Fenris waited for the moment they'd go blue. But it did not happen. This time, the anger was Anders', not Justice'.

"If you're looking for me, I will be at my clinic. Guess no one had the idea to do something about it" he mumbled.

"If you need something…" Fenris started.

"Whatever."

Anders walked towards the staircase that led to Darktown. He was so angry he could not even bear the idea to talk to someone without killing them. But, deep inside him, he knew he was angry at himself. He had no right to be mad at the others because of the sacrifice he had chosen to make. All this mess was because he was too willing to make the sacrifice. But if his life was worthy of anything, it was of the freedom of mages, nothing else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you knew he was not dead. Expected. But necessary. After all, at the beginning, I wanted a "fenders" fanfiction and then Anders died, I don't know how, it just sort of happened. So I have to resurrect him, of course.  
> This is the real beginning of the story, finally, thank the Maker.


	6. My name is anger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Un peu de guimauve, ça vous dit?  
> Out Of Character? I do not know. Lovin' them this way.

Fenris followed him. If Anders noticed, he did not show. He started to clean the mess with slow moves, unaware of the crowd that began to gather on his doorstep.

"The healer is alive!"

"I thought he died in the Deep Roads!"

"He looks tired, are you sure he can help us?"

Fenris knew the moment Anders would allow patients in his clinic, he would be busier than he had ever been. The abomination had spent weeks alone in the dark surrounded by darkspawn, was probably the victim of a terrible hangover, had not even eaten since only the Maker knew and the elf could not imagine the exhaustion that was his. But after the mage took a satisfied glance at his clinic, he invited people inside and the dance of illness and wounds began just like before.

The elf shook his head and left Darktown. Anders had noticed him but as soon as he got his hands busy, he had forgotten about everything, and that was just a relief. He wished he could forget forever. He kept working, welcoming people, smiling at the familiar faces full of tears. 'Yes, I'm alive', 'You surely missed me' and 'I'm not going to leave again'. He kept repeating those words again and again.

As he was handing a healing potion to an old lady hours later, he heard the door slam on the wall. He did not even bat an eyelid and smiled at the lady before turning his attention to a twenty year-old boy.

"Enough!"

The elf stood there, staring at him, brow furrowed. Anders focused on the patient he was healing and the warrior crossed the room and grasped his arm.

"For someone who hates being touched, I think you do take too much liberties as touching others!" he spat, trying to remove his arm from the elf's grasp.

The call of lyrium made him wince when he felt the deep envy to touch the elf and discover how much lyrium had been burnt into his flesh. He needed lyrium so deeply he hated the elf for just being what he was: a giant bottle of lyrium he could not drink.

"That's enough, mage! You'll be dead soon if you keep going that way. People here survived without you for weeks, they can wait a little longer."

Anders was about to respond when Lirene nodded.

"He's right. I've been telling it for hours now."

Really? Anders had barely noticed her presence. He had to remain focused. To forget the rest. He sighed and took back his arm when the need of lyrium fuzzed his head.

"Yeah, he's right, I'm sure nobody died in my absence."

"That is not the point. No emergency" Fenris added, showing the entire clinic in a vague gesture of his hand.

For the first time in hours, Anders took the time to really look at his patients. Maker, the elf was damn right: most of the worst cases had been dealt with hours ago now. There was nothing left but colds, headaches and superficial wounds – nothing that wouldn't heal without him. And then he looked at himself, covered with blood, sweat and probably other body fluids he did not want to know anything about.

"I'll take care of them" Lirene said while Fenris was pushing Anders gently towards his room at the back of the clinic.

Anders did not argue more and obeyed when Fenris told him to sit. The elf put the bag he carried on the desk in front of the mage. He had brought bread and cheese and showed them to the apostate before crossing his arms – his favorite gesture, no doubt.

"Eat."

Anders bit his lips, holding back a “Yes, master” that would certainly not be appreciated. Plus, as he stared at the food, he realized how hungry he was. So he reached the bread and began to eat silently.

"Thanks" he finally said after he swallowed.

The elf began to pace in the room and Anders raised his eyebrows.

"Something troubles you?"

A lot of things troubled Fenris. None that he would say out loud.

"How are the dwarves?" Anders asked when it became obvious he would not get an answer. "Did you manage to get them out of…"

"They're perfectly fine. Well, the two we saved. We found the third on our way back to the exit, dead. I don't think they will ever return in any cave for a long time."

"Yeah, I had this feeling too. And then I met Hawke, dammit."

Fenris stopped pacing and squatted next to the mage, taking his cold hand in his'. Anders shivered at the sudden proximity of lyrium. Since when had he become aware of that? The elf looked up at him, catching his eyes.

"Thank you. For saving my life there. For making it worth something. Your sacrifice made my own life more important, mage."

Anders did not expect such words and remained speechless, as he was well-aware of the warm hands wrapping his. He had missed it. The touch. The voices. The faces. It was like he had spent another year in solitary in the Tower.

Plus, he had always believed the elf thought too highly of himself he could barely suffer the presence of others. Only Hawke seemed worthy of him. But he was apparently wrong.

"I…"

"Hi, sweetheart!"

Fenris quickly rose and stepped back as Isabela entered the room, a cheerful smile on her face. She reached Anders and hugged him tightly, cheek on his forehead.

"Uh, Isabela?"

She held him a few more seconds and Anders could swear he had seen a tear on her cheek when she stood up straight. But she just smiled and gave a glance at Fenris.

"Oh, I hope I'm not interrupting anything between you two. You can go on, don't mind me."

She chuckled and Fenris grumbled. Anders wished he could be mad at her just like he was mad at Hawke – after all he could not deny he was upset of being replaced so easily and quickly - but Isabela was the kind of person you can't stay angry at. She had this thing that made everyone wish to kill her and kiss her. Both at the same time.

"You need something, Bela?" Anders asked.

She was about to respond when he realized Hawke had come with her. Fenris immediately knew what to do. He nodded at his companions and left the clinic to return at his mansion, his heart heavy with unspoken words.

 

 

Isabela had left – or been kicked out was more accurate. She definitely could not handle a serious discussion. Anders was sitting on his bed and Hawke had taken the chair when the mage had begged him to stop pacing. He was so tired he felt like he would sleep for days if he dared laying on his blanket.

"You've been a good friend, Hawke" he said in a desperate attempt to end the talk. "But you need _someone_ , you don't need _me_. It is not me you love. You love the idea of being in love. I'm still your friend – the best you can get I'm sure of it – but there's no future for any other relationship between us. Things have changed. We were together because it was comfortable, because we needed someone, both of us."

Hawke needed Anders after Fenris left. And Anders, somehow, had always needed Hawke, someone stronger than him, someone who did not care about danger, about demons, about magic and all.

"And you don't need anyone now?"

Maker, he did more than he ever had. But he did not want Hawke. Not anymore. The last thing he remembered wanting was quick death. He had loved Hawke. He still did, somehow. But this was insufficient for this to go on now.

"Now I know that if I walk this path it'll be better if I don't have anyone to drag down with me."

"So it's over? Because I left you in that cave?"

"It's over because it was meant to fail. I knew that, one day or another, one of us would break the other's heart. I think it's less painful to do it now, while we still have the chance to move on. Well, you already moved on, anyway."

Hawke sighed but did not reply; he understood the bitterness in Anders' tone. He left a few minutes later, not without a last kiss on Anders' lips. It had been so fast between them. Fast to begin, fast to end. Anders knew it would not heal fast, however. He tumbled on his bed and closed his eyes, waiting for the unconsciousness to take him. But he felt a deep fear he couldn't ignore. The same he had in the Deep Roads. The dark, the silent, the loneliness, the cold. All of that was inside of him. He was cold inside, lonely inside, dark inside. He could not even feel Justice' presence anymore. He used to say they were one, because their thoughts merged. But it was not true. He could feel the spirit within him, he could feel his thoughts and answer them with his own. _Now_ they were fully merged, the spirit was quiet, and he felt terribly alone. He wished Hawke had stayed, craved for his touch, his voice. Or any touch, any voice, perhaps. Nothing was sure anymore.

He left his room, grabbed a few poultices he shoved into a bag and went out. He was aware of the foolishness of his behavior. He was alone, without a staff, exhausted, in Darktown and at night, shivering without his coat. But he realized soon that he just mingled now. He was one of the poor souls that wandered at night. He was one of them. He was invisible.

First he arrived in Lowtown and thought he was going to the Hanged Man. But he passed the door and did not enter. Then he was in Hightown and believed he was heading to Aveline. But he did not wish to see her. He would have asked Hawke's hospitality if he had not just broken up with him. Ask for Fenris' was out of question. The poultices he wanted to use as a pretext to anyone who would suffer his presence tinkled and he realized how pathetic he was, seeking for company when no one seemed able to fill that hole. Maybe the Blooming rose would do, after all. Every lost soul could find refuge there, even for one night.

"Mage!"

Anders almost screamed and jumped, his heart racing in his chest.

"Are you mad?" he shouted, his voice hoarse with exhaustion.

He was suddenly weak and stumbled, until the elf caught his elbow to make him steady. He took the bag and moved it on his own shoulder before leading the apostate to his mansion.

"I've seen you from my window. What were you thinking, wandering alone and unarmed in Hightown?"

"I was not thinking, obviously" he answered.

The elf's touch was gentle and he raised his eyes to meet the green ones. He read concern where he expected to see annoyance. They entered the mansion and Fenris lead the mage to a chair.

"So?"

"So what?" the abomination replied, glowering at him.

Again he hated him for this deep feeling that stroke him gently. He wanted to touch the skin, the lyrium brands, to taste the Fade.

"Why were you ambling so far from your clinic at such a late hour?"

"Could not sleep."

Fenris raised an eyebrow. He stared at the apostate, fully aware of his thinness. The clothes were ample on his shoulders and chest. His face was paler than in the morning, dark rings under amber eyes. He just seemed so ill, as if he was about to die, how could he not sleep? The elf could not stand that sight anymore.

"You stay."

The man did not react, his eyes fixed on the bag Fenris had put on the floor. The elf snapped his fingers and the mage looked up.

"Hmm?"

"I said you stay."

"Where?"

"Here. Tonight. You need a bath. And to sleep. To eat as well. Did you drink enough today? And I'm not talking about lyrium."

Anders shook his head and wanted to stand up but Fenris put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him gently. Again, the mage shivered at his touch.

"I am aware this is not a comfortable situation. But I guess you don't know where to go, and there's a reason why you left your clinic. You've found a place, that's all. Wait here" he added as he climbed the stairs.

Anders obeyed. The elf was right. He had searched for a place and had found one. Actually, he sought company and was aware that Fenris was not the kind of person who'd held his hand so he could sleep. But maybe it would be better just to know that, somewhere nearby, someone was watching over him. He might be safe here, after all, despite the “I'll crush your heart and feed it to you” elf.

"Come."

Anders jumped. He had not seen or heard the elf return. He was by his side, stretching a hand. What was Anders supposed to do with that hand? He stared at the blue tattoos and looked away, struggling inside. He just ignored the hand as he rose up and then followed the warrior.

"Take your time" Fenris said, showing the bath he had prepared for the mage. "Shout if you need anything. Let me know from time to time you did not fall asleep and drown" he smirked before leaving Anders in the bathroom, closing the door slowly.

The mage had not taken it. The mage had not taken his hand. Was it a message? Like 'I don't need your help!' or 'I despise you too much!'? Fenris sighed and returned to the bedroom, where he was when he had seen the apostate down the street. The bottle of wine was still on the window ledge and he emptied it in the glass. Had he already drunk one bottle? He cast a glance to the city. It was almost beautiful at night. Often, Fenris wondered what he would do once Danarius dead. Truth was he had no idea. He had nowhere else to go. Nothing else to do. Nothing else to want.

After a while, Fenris knocked at the door.

"Mage? Are you all right?"

"I am. I just…"

"What?"

"Forget it."

"What?" Fenris insisted, bothered by that door that separated them.

"Now that I'm clean, I'd feel dirty to put on my own clothes. Would you… lend me some?"

"Of course."

Anders opened the door when Fenris returned with clothes, a towel around his waist.

"Thank you."

The elf nodded. But as the apostate was about to go back in the bathroom, he grabbed his wrist. It was becoming a habit to seek this touch, to be sure the mage was actually here and that it was not sort of an illusion.

"The scars…"

Anders frowned. Apparently, no one was supposed to know about them. But the events had made it different.

"I escaped seven times. To do so I had to be captured seven times. And punished six times."

Fenris let go of Anders and the mage closed the door without another word. Fenris was watching the city through the window again when the abomination joined him, elbows on the ledge. None of them spoke, but they shared something, some thoughts that did not need words to be expressed.

"How did you survive?" the elf finally asked after a while.

"I'm a powerful mage and a healer, I passed my Harrowing, I escaped the Tower seven times, I'm a Grey Warden, I helped the Hero Of Ferelden, faked my own death, I have a fade spirit as a very close friend and, finally, I'm just too charming to die. Will this explanation suffice?"

Fenris smirked. Somehow, the mage was right about all this. His life had been nothing but exceptional if half he was telling about it was true. When he spoke his tales, he seemed brave and quite clever, although a little reckless sometimes. Fenris could not understand how such a weakness took over and made him deal with a demon.

"No."

"But that is all you'll get."

Fenris nodded and did not insist. Void take him if he dared contest choices of silence. Former slave he was: he respected the others' decisions. But surely he would give it another try later, a last chance for the mage to share his burden.

"You may sleep in this room. I'll leave you now."

The elf took the empty bottle and the glass and left the bedroom. Anders wanted him to stay. His presence was more comforting than he could ever had imagined. Actually, he could not have dreamed of a better person to be at his side at this moment. The elf knew when to speak and when to remain silent. He was not insistent, neither distant. But he was not here when Anders slipped under the blanket and felt cold inside again. Anders had not even noticed he felt released when the elf was near. Now that he was not, the emptiness filled the mage again.

However, he was too exhausted to remain fully awake. He almost slept, wandering in some lost realm of the Fade. He saw Darkspawn, he saw rocks, dark, fire, blue glimmer, he felt the pain again. He dreamed lyrium was burning his skin, his bones, until there was nothing left of his body.

"Maker, no!" he shouted as he woke up.

He put his fists on his eyes and breathed slowly. He did not hear Fenris coming but he knew he was near.

"I'm alright" he just said.

He opened his eyes and saw the elf leaning on the door frame.

"Your eyes turned blue again" he commented in an angry voice.

"I was... back in the Deep Roads. There, I have to let him handle the situation. To survive."

"Some things are worse than death" Fenris reminded him as he crossed his arms again. "Better dead than a demon."

"I am no de..."

Anders' brow furrowed as he realized Justice was the one saying this through his mouth, obviously. It was Justice's words. Or Anders'. Did it matter anyway?

"Please, Fenris. Not tonight."

"Agreed."

The elf looked away. He seemed to hesitate but finally sat on the chair next to the bed.

"Sleep, mage. I will watch over you tonight. Worry not."

He had immediately understood Anders needed company to ease the fear. And he did not mock him. He stayed. Anders looked at the lyrium brands on the elf's neck that disappeared behind the collar of the blue tunic. All this time he had been unaware of what they meant. Now he knew. And even if the cravings had him hate the elf again for making him want something he could not have, he came to think the warrior deserved less bitterness. Even if he wanted to take Anders to the Gallows, to make him Tranquil, to kill him. Now Anders understood why he hated all mages for what one had inflicted to him. Anders was as angry now. Angry at the man he had to make the sacrifice for and at the people who pretended to be his friends but did not hesitate before leaving him to death without considering coming back later for him. Had he watched by the window, he would have found himself alone in the whole world.

But suddenly, as the apostate lied down and closed his eyes, he was aware of a hand on his shoulder. It remained here until he fell asleep.


	7. But it was singing

"I'm just saying that there must be a reason why Kirkwall seems to be the center of everything. It has something to do about the Gallows, it's obvious!" Anders argued after swallowing the rest of his omelet.

  
    Fenris was more impressed by the quantity of food the mage had eaten than by his arguments. How did they come to talk about that again anyway?  
"Are you saying it's not their choice when they use blood magic?" he growled, rolling his eyes.  
"No, I mean that despite their foolish decision, something tips the scale in demons' favor."

    Usually, Fenris would have replied again, but he was focused on the mage. After a bath and a long night of sleep, he was a different man. He still seemed hollow and floated in his clothes but his face was less pale and his amber eyes had recovered some glimmer. Fenris had missed this glimmer, this passionate spark he could not understand but envied. Fenris had always been jealous of the man. Fascinated, perhaps. By this unbeatable faith that made him so naive. How would he react if he told him what happened in the middle of the night?  
"All right, I agree with that point. Besides, the Gallows just look too much like a prison, even for a Circle."

    Anders froze and then looked up.  
"Are you… agreeing with me?"  
"Don't get used to it" the elf replied with a glare.

    Anders laughed and took a glance at the window. The sun was high in the sky now.  
"I should go back to my clinic. People need me."

    Fenris smirked but did not let the man see it. The mage was unbelievable. Was it even possible to be so selfless? So foolish?  
"I already asked Varric to do something about it."  
"What do you mean?"  
"I thought about what you said. That we did not do anything about it when you... First I thought that we actually could do nothing. But you need to rest. So Varric sent people there to take care of your patients. Lirene will do a great job, Lady Elegant will help and even Tomwise will be there, just in case. You have nothing to worry about. If they need you, they'll send someone here."  
"Here?"  
"You may stay" Fenris simply replied.  
"But you… you hate me."  
"I do. But I'm not cruel. Neither heartless. Nor a fool. You're in pain – I won't ask why, you're not even wounded. And you're undernourished. And still exhausted" he finished his list with a sidelong look to his whole body.  
"I'm the healer here…"  
"Not today. Today you're just… just Anders."  
 

   The elf was leaving the kitchen but he hesitated. He looked away when the words he was repeating in his head finally passed his mouth.  
"I hate what you are and what you do. Often what you say. But not who you are."

    Anders knew this was the closest thing to a compliment he would ever get from the elf, no matter how senseless it seemed to him. So he just accepted it and finished his breakfast. He felt good in this dusty mansion. Plus, Fenris did not raise any question, did not say anything unpleasant. Anders did not worry about explanation, or even bothering the warrior. Because there was no embarrassment. Things were just easy, as they never were.

    Anders visited each room of the mansion, his bare feet leaving prints in the dust – he wanted to understand why Fenris found it so important to be barefoot and until now totally failed as he watched the muck on the floor and winced. Last time he came, he helped cleaning the mansion of shadows and demons and it seemed it had not even been really cleaned since. He could almost say where one of his fireballs had hit the walls and his thunderbolts the floor. Even the skeletons in the hallway seemed to look at Anders and say 'Yeah, I know, it's unbelievable'. But the bedroom where Anders had slept and the kitchen were decent and it seemed enough for the elf. So was it for Anders. He continued his visit and laughed when he saw the cellar. Now he knew how the elf could drink so much. He could go on this way for years, with so many bottles. The Aggregio Pavani were put aside, kept for special occasions, the mage knew it. He climbed the stairs and pushed another door. There he found the elf, sitting on a chair in the middle of his library.  
"Mage. Do you need something?"

    Fenris tried not to smirk at the sight. The man was different from the one he knew. Without his coat, in black leggings and white tunic, bare foot and hair free, he had a wild look that made him seem younger. Happier. Just different. Like he had not an unwilling host inside of his mind who wished to kill every templar and free all damned blood mages out from the Circle.  
"No, I was just… sneaking around to pass time" he admitted with an apologetic smile. "This mansion is really big."  
"Indeed."  
"I really wonder what you do here all day."  
 

   As he was watching the elf, he realized he actually was doing nothing. He was just sitting here, not even a book in his hands despite the fact that he was surrounded with them.  
"Already told you. I like dancing."  
"Yeah. Everybody does" the mage replied, leaving the door frame to enter the room and looking at the books. "Are these interesting?"  
"The books? I have not read them."  
"None?"  
"No."

    The elf wanted to add something but changed his mind. He rose up and walked until he was close to the mage.  
"May I ask you something?"  
 

   Anders stared at the green eyes. They had never been so close.  
"Yes."  
"Where is Justice? Do you feel it in your mind?"

    The mage narrowed his eyes. That was not what he expected. He read some anger in the elf's eyes, some bitterness he knew well after all this time. And it still hurt to be the one who raised this hatred. Little did he know the real reason why Fenris was angry. It was deeper than just the man under his eyes. But then again, he would not say it out loud.  
"Justice is not anymore" he admitted. "He is me. I am him."  
"I don't believe that" the elf said. "I think you claim thoughts as yours when they're his. I think you claim thoughts as his when they're yours. Is it you who help people in Darktown or your demon? Is it you or him who wishes mages' freedom? It was no justice you died for me."  
"I did not die."  
"Indeed."  
"And not for you" Anders added with a sardonic smile.

    The elf took the mage's hand in his and put it on his chest so he could feel the heartbeat. It was no romantic gesture, but the mage's own heart began to race in his chest and he did not like that. He hated it. As he hated liking the touch of lyrium.  
"What if you had?" Fenris asked.  
"What do you mean?" he answered with an angry voice.

    The mage was well aware of the contact between their skins. Fenris' hands were warm again on his cold fingers. He could feel the heartbeat through the fabric of the green tunic. It was slow, deep, and it struck him through his soul.  
"Who's decision was it? Yours? Mine? Hawke's? Justice'? It was so fast down there. How could you make this decision so fast and convince everybody it was the right one? Do you remember asking me if I ever thought of killing myself?"  
"Whoa, that's a lot of questions. Why bother with them?"  
 

   The elf stepped forward, so that less than a feet separated their faces.  
"Because their answers matter to me."  
"They should not. Someone had to be left behind so that the others would survive. We could not fight them, they were too many. And it was my fault. I said we could beat them and I was mistaken. It was my fault you got wounded by the emissary. I am supposed to deal with the emissaries. It was all my fault down there. It felt like I was unworthy if I just ran."  
"How did you survive, mage?"

    Anders thought he'd never answer this question. But if there was one person in the whole world who would understand, it might be Fenris. Because Anders remembered it as well. The pain. He had felt it. He had always heard Fenris talking about it. And then he had lived it.  
"The roof collapsed" he began, hesitating. "And then it was over. It was silent. It was dark and cold. I lied there for hours, under the rocks. Just long enough to restore some of my mana. Enough to heal me a little bit and live a little longer. Everything was about time down there. A little more time. An hour. A day. Hanging on despite the constant pain, the hunger, the thirst. When I had enough mana I had no choice but to heal myself if I wanted to survive. And then there was not enough left to move the rocks. I dreamed of water, food, light, voices. One step in reality and one step in the Fade. When I had drunk the last drops of water in my flask, I told myself that there was no hope left and I should just let go. And then I felt it, I heard it. I don't know how I could have not noticed it before."  
"What?"  
"The lyrium. Raw lyrium. It was singing nearby."

    The elf widened his eyes and stepped back, realizing what the mage was telling him. He could almost see the madness in his companion's pupils. The same he had seen in Bartrand's.  
"Raw lyrium kill mages outright" he just said, face blank.  
"I know. But it was singing, Fenris. And I needed to get out of here."  
"You did not…"  
"I did. Well, I let Justice do it."  
"Are you insane?" Fenris shouted, beginning to pace.  
"It was my only chance!"  
"No! It was not! You could be dying by now, for all we know. How can you even breathe? Because you're an _abomination_?"

    Anders lowered his head and Fenris' anger eased suddenly. He wanted to take back these words. But he could not.  
"And you?" Anders asked, pointing an accusing finger toward the elf. "Lyrium under your skin?" he reminded him with a sardonic laughter. "How did you survive?"  
"It was a ritual, against my will. And I gave my memories to it. You chose to take that upon you! What did you leave to the lyrium? Do not compare our situations, mage!"

    There it was. The resentment. The jealousy. The envy. The hatred. There was just one person in this room he could get angry at. His lyrium brands began to glow as he paced quicker in the library.  
"After all I said about what happened, about what it felt like, you dare talking about it as if you could have any idea of what it was like…"

    Anders sighed. He was wrong. The elf could not understand, for he did not want to see. If Fenris had felt excruciating pain while the ritual and still hurt sometimes because of the markings, Anders was also in the same situation. But the lyrium was not under his skin. It was deep into his bones, into his mind, into his soul. And it was there because of him. Because of this bastard who was glowering at him as if he was the worst monster in whole Thedas.  
"I have not lost my memory. I have not lost anything. Yet."  
"Mages used me, transformed me, stole my life and my memories, enslaved me, tortured me and corrupted me with their magic. Mages, just like you!"  
 

   Anders was speechless for once. So he just left. He put his boots on, took his bag, and walked out in Hightown, feeling cold inside again. He returned to his clinic and dismissed Lirene, Lady Elegant and Tomwise after thanking them. He took care of his patients, one by one, trying to think of anything else but the elf. When his hands started to shake, he reached a bottle of lyrium. But he did not drink it. He was staring at the blue mixture as he felt the ache in his whole body, dull and continuous. The ache that pursued him since the moment he dared to get close to the singing lyrium. Was he poisoning himself more? One bottle, would it change anything anyway? He swallowed it and worked even harder.  
"Hey, Blondie!"  
"Varric!" Anders greeted his guest.

    The clinic was almost empty now. A few patients remained, in need of poultices or bandages. No need of magic anymore.  
"You look better" the dwarf said. "You were a mess, yesterday. You still are, but you look better."  
"Thanks! Do you need something?"  
"You should come at the Hanged Man tonight. It's Wicked Grace evening, after all."  
 

   Anders wanted to refuse. He did not feel in the mood to see everyone. But he knew he could not handle staying alone in his clinic, in the dark and cold. Plus, he really missed these evenings.  
"Sure I'll come as soon as I'm done here."  
"I'll wait. You have no staff, Blondie. You can't walk in Lowtown on your own. We'll get you a new one tomorrow, unless you want a bodyguard. I'm sure someone would gladly take the job" he added with a wink.  
"If you're talking about Hawke…"  
"Never mind. By the way, I promised the others to invite you only if you promised not to drink."  
"Can't promise that" Anders replied with a short laughter. "But I'll try my best!"  
"What about the 'Justice does not let me drink' thing?"  
"I decided not to obey him. It appears my experiment of death gave me more control about what I want from life. Perhaps… since I nearly died" he added with a less serious tone, "I can't live a life without alcohol anymore!"  
"Welcome to the world of the livings, then!"  
 

    The dwarf had no idea how his words were accurate. They left the clinic a few minutes later and reached the Hanged Man. Anders realized Varric settled himself on the mage's rhythm. He was slow, each step awakening a light pain in his legs. In the Deep Roads, he used Rejuvenation spells on himself to ease the aches. And he was in desperate need of doing it again, as the pain became more and more intense.  
"Are you all right, Blondie?"  
"Yeah. It's been a long day. It'll take a little while for me to… you know."

    Varric waited for him as they climbed the stairs to his room. Everybody was already there and they smiled when the mage entered the room. When he could steal a moment for himself, he would cast the spell. He had to.  
"Look who's here!"  
    Hawke rose up and hugged him briefly. Then he handed him a few coins.  
"You were not paid for the journey in the Deep Roads. And you need money to lose tonight" he added before laughing.

    Anders smirked and sat next to Varric, in front of the elf. Aveline was at his left and Sebastian was absent. Maybe it was going to be a good night after all.  
"So, Blondie. You must have stories to tell after that little adventure, right?"

   Or maybe not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep. Raw lyrium. After all, we can't know what lyrium in its raw form would do to an aposate who's possessed by a Fade spirit, right? Yes, this is the "I'm-an-author-and-I-do whatever-I-like-in-my-stories" excuse. I'm proud of it! Humility? What is this? HAHA.  
> Like Anders barefoot, hair free and all, by the way. He seems so... I don't know. Finally free of the Circle, of the fear of templars. Just because of a hair cut and a tunic, yes.  
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, thanks for reading, thanks for the kudos, it always makes me smile when you take time to hit the kudos button.  
> See you soon for the next chapter!


	8. Sparkle Fingers

Anders had avoided questions with so much talent he would have boasted if he did not fear to draw the attention again. But he was well aware of the elf's glance each time he made a joke to elude. He was begging him silently not to tell anyone. And he did not. He remained silent, barely distracted by the game, brow furrowed during the whole evening.

When Anders had lost another handful of coins, he rose up and pretended to go to the privy before leaving the room. He closed the door behind him and stood in the corridor. He did not want to move. Each gesture raised a wave of pain in his body. He had to do this right now. He was alone in the shadows, no one could see him. He put a hand on his chest and closed his eyes as magic reached his palm and spread in his whole body. Since he had touched the raw lyrium, he had more mana than he could ever have dreamed of. But he knew each time he would use it, the lyrium in his body would poison him deeper. And when it poisoned him, he healed himself. It was an endless circle.

He jumped when the door opened quickly and lowered his hand.

"What was that?" the elf asked, looking around him until he saw the mage.

"What? I was about to return, you almost slammed my face with that door!"

"The magic. I felt it."

"It wasn't me. Unless you're looking for another apostate in the Hanged Man, I suggest you drank too much."

The mage brushed past him and entered the room again but the elf grasped his wrist. It had become a habit, no doubt.

"Do not lie to me, mage" he hissed as his hand squeezed Anders' arm.

"Let go of me, _elf_ , you're hurting me."

Fenris widened his eyes. Was it what Anders felt each time he called him 'mage'? Fenris released his hand and shrugged before returning to Wicked Grace. Hawke and Varric were looking at them curiously.

"I heard about you and Donnic" Isabela said to Aveline. "He surely is handsome. Is he good at bed?"

"Shut up, whore."

"I'm glad you moved on since Wesley, though" Hawke commented.

Anders frowned and Fenris sighed already, knowing what was about to come.

"So you married a templar, huh?" Anders asked, sitting again, totally calm now.

"What of it?"

"Are they all as dirty as they seem?"

Isabela chuckled and clapped her hands, unaware of the heavy atmosphere.

"What?"

"Did he ever ask you to play 'the naughty mage and the helpless recruit?' Maybe the 'secret desire demon and the upstanding knight?'

"That's disgusting!"

"I hear it's quite popular."

"Anders!" Isabela interrupted. "I was thinking tonight was the good night to teach Merrill the electricity thing. You may use me as a guinea pig! I'm willing to do this terrible sacrifice."

Anders felt relaxed, just as if he had drunk too much, without the 'stumble and vomit' part. This was how healing spells felt like. So he just walked towards Isabela and let the tip of his fingers brush her neck. She jumped when the spell spread in her body and smiled with a pleased sigh.

"I really missed this" she moaned.

"Anders, are you fondling my girlfriend?"

Maker, that hurt. But Anders did not show; after all, their relationship was over, Hawke had every right to... but, Maker, it really hurt.

"I'm not. I barely touched her. Merrill, sorry, but you have to feel it if you want to learn it. Ready?"

The elf rolled his eyes and Aveline blushed, trying to look away. The blood mage laughed and nodded and Anders approached his hand.

 

Merrill, after a few attempts, had managed to learn the spell. Anders was the center of the attention, all gazes looking daggers. Isabela, Hawke and Merrill had started some game around the electricity spell and the evening had turned awkward. Aveline finally left after squeezing hard Anders shoulders, whispering a 'You'll pay for that!', Varric had given up the Wicked Grace since the threesome nearby was doing everything except playing cards and Fenris had emptied countless glasses of wine. The silence was heavy, only broken by Hawke's laughter. Anders had ruined another evening at the Hanged man, apparently.

"I will return to my clinic now. Sorry about… that" he added with a vague gesture towards Isabela and Merrill who were now whispering in each other's ears.

"Blondie, what did I say about Lowtown alone at night without a staff?"

"I'm not going to wait for Hawke and a staff helps but is not _necessary_. I'm a well-grown powerful mage. And since everyone here is pretty drunk, I think I am the only one who can take care of myself."

"I am not drunk" the elf grumbled. "I'll go with you."

"I don't need a bodyguard."

But the elf was already reaching his sword and Varric was trying to kick the others out of his room. Once out, Anders breathed in the fresh air.

"You always do that" the elf commented.

"Do what?"

"When you leave a place, you stop and close your eyes."

"I enjoy being outside. Don't mind me, I'll go to my clinic on my own. Let's part our ways."

The elf did not move and Anders frowned. It was late and the effects of his spell had ceased.

"I'm serious, Fenris. Just go."

"What did you do in here?"

"I know! Teaching her that trick was not the brightest idea but…"

"Just before that. You used magic. What for?"

"Please, you really want to have this talk here and now? I'm tired."

He started to walk. Slowly. Carefully. Nonchalantly. He could not let the elf see. But Fenris saw. He was staring at the mage who was making his way towards the staircase. He silently followed him, watching. And when the man took the first step, stopped and just sat there, panting, Fenris joined him, sat at his side and they remained silent for a while. Then the mage reached the elf's hand and began to remove his gauntlet. The warrior let him do, curious, tensing at the touch. A finger traced the lyrium brands.

"How does it feel? To be touched? Does it always hurt?"

"Not always. Sometimes I almost forget about it. It's just… sensitive. At the beginning it hurt really bad. That's why I don't like being touched. Pain is my first memory, after all."

"Such pain would be hard to imagine."

"You have no idea."

The mage sighed and put the gauntlet back. Fenris had finally understood, earlier. And his last words were misplaced. He waited for the mage to tell that he actually did have an idea but the apostate remained silent. So, even if the thought disgusted him, the elf reached the mage's wrist, grasped it and dragged. The abomination cried out in pain and Fenris released him.

"Sorry" he just said with a fixed gaze. "It's getting worse, isn't it? So now what?" he asked, looking at the darkness at the bottom of the stairs.

"Now I'll enjoy every minute I got left until the day I die" he joked with a vague gesture towards the whole universe. "I'm actually thinking about accepting Viveka's offer, after all. She'd be delighted and I can surely know why. Could be fun. I was quite a legend, in Denerim. Didn't stay really long but people remember me. I have that effect on people, don't I?"

"You do" Fenris simply responded.

Then he just stood up and left. Anders shivered when he was suddenly alone, the cold in him reappearing with loneliness. Maker, he was no child, he could handle this. But his paths led him to the docks and he greeted Viveka with the few coins he had, hoping it would suffice for a night at the Blooming Rose.

 

Fenris looked at the lyrium on his skin. It was a poison. A curse. But he had lived with it. The mage would do so. After a while, the pain would certainly fade away, wouldn't it? And things would be back to normal.

"That's a lie" he murmured out loud.

Whether he'd admit it or not, Fenris himself had changed. He still hated the mage, but somehow, he respected him more than he ever did. Not only because of the clinic, of his skills or his past, but surely because he would have been the most beautiful person in the world if he was not...

"A mage. Mages ruined my life. He is one of them. And yet he saved mine."

Fenris sighed and emptied the bottle without bothering spilling the wine in the glass. He uncorked another one and sighed again. He suddenly heard a knock and stumbled down the stairs.

"Who is it?"

"Anders."

Fenris opened the door to find the mage with a new bag on his shoulder. He knew what it meant before the apostate could say anything.

"I was looking for a place. Do you think I've found one?"

The elf hesitated. He looked at his bottle of wine in his hand, thinking about his evening, alone in his room, staring at the sleeping city through his window.

"You have" he simply said, drawing away so that the mage could enter the hall.

Anders slowly made his way between the skeletons and headed directly towards the stairs. He whimpered silently when the pain in his body awoke as he climbed. Fenris heard. And Fenris cared. Because he knew this constant pain and he would have wished it to no one. Not even a mage. Especially not the healer.

 

They spent an hour watching the city through the window. Fenris was surprised how it was totally different when someone was near. He never needed company before but somehow, he had come to enjoy it. Anders was now sitting on the floor next to the fire, reading one of the books he had found in the library. Fenris was watching him silently. He envied him again. He wished he could read.

"Is it interesting?"

Anders looked up at him and smiled.

"It's… upsetting. It's about the mages' society in Tevinter."

"Uh uh, I know where this is going so let's just drop it, shall we?"

Anders nodded and smiled again. Fenris handed him one of the healing potions the mage had made for him, since he always refused magical treatments - when he had the choice.

"Drink. It helps."

Anders shook his head, mumbling a 'I don't need it' excuse but the elf sighed, sat next to him and uncorked the bottle.

"Drink" he repeated, handing the bottle until Anders nodded and obeyed.

"Thank you."

Anders was feeling the warmth of the potion spreading in his body, easing the pain, vanishing the aches. He closed his eyes and sighed.

"I apologize" the elf said. "For what happened this morning."

"It's all right, I'm used to it" he replied with a wink.

Anders could not tell him what he wanted to speak out loud earlier, before he left. What damaged he had endure. He would not tell anyone. There was more than the aches in his muscles and bones. There was so much more. His body could be easily repaired with healing magic from time to time but there was something roaring in his head, threatening everything he had built. Something Fenris seemed to awake and soothe at the same time. And it made Anders hate and crave for him at the same time.

"Fenris?"

"Hmm?"

"Thank you. For everything. I know I… Well, you and I have not been in good terms, have we? I appreciate what you do."

It was comforting to know that someone cared. That was partly why Anders did not tell the others and hesitated so long before sharing it with the elf. He was afraid his friends would not care. He had not waited for Fenris to feel concerned and yet he knew that somehow the warrior was not indifferent.

"You're welcome, mage."

As Anders was heading to the attractive sheets, he saw Fenris moving the chair to settle it next to the bed. The elf sat silently and the mage smirked before closing his eyes when his head hit the pillows. The slow breath next to him helped him fall asleep but he missed the hand on his shoulder.

Fenris was waiting. That last time, he had been surprised but this night, he was prepared. The abomination opened his eyes and then his whole body went blue before he sat up.

"Justice" Fenris greeted the demon.

" **Elf. I'm not leaving you alone with him sleeping, I've already told you that. I won't let him rest until you leave the bedroom."**

"I'm not leaving him this time. I stay. He needs me more than he needs you, demon. He thinks you and he are one now. But I know what's going on. I know why it is you who took the lyrium. You seek power."

**"You know nothing, elf. You know nothing about magic, about the Fade, and about Anders."**

"I know enough! I won't let you have him!"

" **He is already mine."**

Fenris knew it was true. He was willing to admit Justice had been a spirit. But he was no more. And Anders would not be able to control it any longer. The entity Fenris was facing had nothing to do with the one he met in the Fade or briefly in the Deep Roads. Raw lyrium had definitely been devastating.

"Leave him be, demon. He's working for the mages' rights just as you wish, isn't that enough?"

" **No! You distract him. He needs no one! He rejected Hawke to focus on our purpose and he'll reject you as well. He has to die so that the world can see. He has to be a martyr and you can't stop** **u** **s!"**

" You'll kill him for what  _you_ call justice? Na via lerno victoria!"

" **He** **i** **s already dead. Nothing's gonna save him. The lyrium will eat his body and his mind. He must act quickly, before it is too late and his death wasted. He has not told you? How he decided to die down there. He wished to die. He still wishes to die. And now he has a reason to, thank** **s** **to me!"**

"These are your thoughts, not his. You convinced him to stay, with your corrupted idea of justice."

**"Oh no! It would have been justice if he had let** _**you** _ **die there. It is** _**you** _ **who deserve** **s** **death** **. It is Anders who is corrupt, with human desires** **and weaknesses."**

"Vishante kaffas!" the elf shouted.

Suddenly, Justice had disappeared and the mage was looking at him, confused.

"I really hate you, mage" Fenris said almost quietly.

But Anders heard no hatred in his voice.

" Festis bei umo canavarum"  the elf  whispered before he leaned down and joined their lips .

Anders blinked in surprise. And then he just closed his eyes. It was warm, soft, gentle, almost just a brush on his lips, until he finally responded to the kiss. Fenris was waiting for it. As soon as Anders began to move his own mouth, Fenris moved closer, claiming his lips in a slow deep kiss. It tasted like hope and despair, hatred and desire. It was all that prevented the elf from sinking his fist into Anders' chest to rip his heart out. He was kissing the mage to prevent himself from killing him right now and ending this madness.

Anders broke the kiss and opened his eyes.

"It sings again."

"What?"

"The lyrium. It sings too loud. Make it stop. Make it stop!" he shouted, pushing the elf violently before grabbing his hair as if to tear it out.

But then it just stopped. Everything. The song, the pain, the aches, the memories. And the craving began, just like earlier in his clinic. He needed it. He wanted it. He was dying for it. He rose on his feet, unaware of two hands who tried to hold him back.

"I need to go."

"Mage!"

Fenris had managed to catch his arm. The abomination struggled but Fenris was strong and he did not let go.

"Mage! Calm down!"

"I can't. I need it. I must take it. Jut a little bit, one bottle, not more."

And suddenly Fenris understood. He widened his eyes and then activated his brands. Immediately, the apostate soothed. It took him a little while before recovering his full mind. He looked at Fenris, who was still glowing in the faint darkness of the evening, and then at his arm, their skins touching.

"It still sings loud" he just said calmly.

The elf did not answer. His fingers moved slowly from Anders' arm to his chest.

"Fenris…"

His fist passed the flesh, the bones and reached the organ. He had crushed so many hearts this way. This shouldn't be different. But it was. Because he was not doing this to kill. He was doing it to relieve. Sometimes death and relief were the same thing, he had learned it from the mage himself, who was now panting in pain and fear.

"Fenris" he whispered.

His fingers swathed the beating heart. The elf wanted to hear the mage's last words, but he remained silent.

"Where is Justice now?" the warrior murmured.

"I… I'm holding him back. But it won't last long. Make a decision."

Fenris made his decision. The apostate fell on his knees, breath cut, and the elf joined him on the floor.

"I'm sorry."

Anders smirked.

"It's not that I don't enjoy having fingers inside of me, but usually they don't try to crush my heart."

"Isabela, leave this body."

Anders raised his head and his eyes met Fenris'.

"Am I safe here, Fenris? Are you going to kill me? Don't make me fear you. Don't make me fear death. I've never feared death before I met you."

"You could have stopped me. At every second. I would have listened. I would have understood."

"Would you?"

Fenris did not answer. He wanted to kill him. But the apostate had kept Justice under control despite the danger and it surely meant everything was not lost. He helped the mage to get back on the bed.

"Mage, what happened?"

"I… do not know. It was… My head…"

'The lyrium will eat his body and his mind.'

" I should kill you now."

"I should go."

Fenris almost asked him to stay. But he did not. Neither did he follow when the mage left the room and then the mansion. He would watch the mage. He would wait until the moment had come.  And when the day had come, he would do what he had to do.

_________________________________________________________________________________________

Fenris and Anders never discussed what happened. Anders' state was stable, it seemed. But because Fenris knew, he could see the little details. The endless stock of mana the mage possessed now, the way his eyes closed when he drank a bottle of lyrium he did not need, the tense in his body when the aches came back, until he healed himself. Fenris' promises had vanished the night he had let the mage leave the mansion. It was not his role to watch over the abomination. If the apostate wanted to poison himself, he would let him do, it was none of his concern. His debt was not worth it all  and the abomination would die with or without him eventually.

A whole week passed by. Hawke had lost his mother in the hands of a blood mage. It was said that Isabela came to his estate after that. He told her to leave and she never returned. He was angry. At Merrill for being a blood mage, at Anders for not saving Leandra, at Sebastian for his speech about how it was better that she was at the Maker's side now. At himself.

Despite all he had accomplished, he just felt like a spectator of his own life. Watching this noble man trying to resolve a Qunari issue that was not supposed to be his concern. Mocking at this fool who sought love in people who were too busy with revenge, revolution or emotional freedom. What if he had asked Isabela to stay? What if he had convinced Fenris to stay that night? What if he had not abandoned Anders in the Deep Roads? All this was his doing. Just a matter of staying or not. And he knew for sure it was a mistake when he returned to the clinic in the evening, hearing the words the mage had said echoing in his head. 'I love you'.

"Anders."

The healer raised his head from his manifesto. He had let the door open so that a draft would reduce the stench of Darktown. Useless, of course. He had not spent many days in Hawke's estate but he really missed the comfort of it. Even now he could not forget the dark of the Deep Roads, the silence, the musty smell of the caverns.

"Hawke? Are you all right?"

"Yes. I just needed some company. Are you busy?"

Anders smiled and shook his head.  What was about to come, none of them had any control over it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kudos and comments!  
> I'm actually thinking of writing a chapter while Anders is in the Deep Roads and finds the lyrium.
> 
> Jusctice, spoilsport. Well, NOW you know what happened the previous night between Anders and Fenris. "How would he react if he told him what happened in the middle of the night?" I wonder what you thought it meant.  
> Did I just quote myself? Sorry about the narcissic attempt to draw your attention on little details.
> 
> Did I tell you how hard it is to me to find a title for the chapters? Maker, I spend a lot of times re-reading my chapter, hoping the idea would suddenly strike me. And I end up with terrible meaningless ideas.


	9. Sadness and Sorrow

Hawke and Anders seemed to have fallen again in this sick relationship they shared and the mage had moved on at the Amell estate. Fenris found odd that Hawke had not noticed what was going on with the mage. As far as he knew, he was the only one the abomination told what happened in the Deep Roads. Each time questions were asked, he frowned and did not answer. But he looked at Fenris, reminding him of the trust he put in him. And the elf could not break what remained of the faith they once shared on the battlefield. Fenris could not fight alongside the mage, now that he knew his mind could break at any instant, or his body fail them all. It was either Anders or Fenris on a fight. It had been this way several times, when Fenris was in a bad mood and did not want to suffer the presence of a pro-magister imperium mage - how to call anyone who wanted mages to be free? Hawke did not ask anything, accepting the terms.

They had given up their arguments each time they met and the silence that set itself between them was full of words they both yearned to say. Even on the Wicked Grace nights – the only moments they saw each other – they remained unusually silent. Varric and Hawke exchanged looks but dared no comment.

“All right, Blondie, you know what comes next. If you wish to take back your coin, you have to be ready to take your clothes off.”

Isabela applauded at the idea and Merrill chuckled. It seemed the mage was torn between the idea of giving up and losing his money definitely or risking his dignity in trying to have it back – Fenris doubted the mage still got any dignity after so many times stripping in the Hanged Man. He glanced at Hawke who raised two hands with a 'I'm not getting involved' look.

“Your call. But I'll never refuse a chance to see what is under that shabby coat” he added with a big smile. “You always stop before we get to the interesting part. Stop making us hope and then disappoint us, that's all I have to say!”

Even Aveline could not hold back the discreet laughter that escaped her mouth.

“My coat is not shabby!” Anders retorted as he pulled it off when Varric handed out the cards.

“Sweetheart” Isabela replied. “There are so many holes in it we can barely see the difference when you wear it.”

“That's a lie! I have it repaired. Mostly. I'm not good at sewing.”

Fenris shook his head. He had not thought a second the mage would still wear his coat and those annoying feathers after he came back from the Deep Roads. And he could not imagine the abomination actually _sewing_. It was part of the things he could not understand. He could hardly say he was aware that the mage was a real person with normal behavior and desires. Like this childish affection for a coat… and feathers.

“You look like a Darktown citizen” he just said with a judging glance.

“I happen to live in Darktown actually!”

“Not anymore” Hawke interrupted. “You have everything you need and what do I get in return – except unforgettable nights, I mean. Don't you care about my reputation?”

Anders tilted his head and his eyes went soft before his lips curled up a bit. It was a small smile, but it seemed like there was nothing more important to the mage than Hawke at the moment. He smiled at him like Garrett was the most important person in the whole world and Fenris huffed disdainfully.

“Your reputation was sealed the moment you made an alliance with an apostate, who happens to be an abomination who frees blood mages from the Gallows and wants to start a revolution.”

“Broody!” the dwarf exclaimed with a satisfied expression on his face. “That was a long time since you two argued about it. We began to think you had both… Er, I'm not saying it” he just added with a glance at the pirate. “Glad you're being yourselves again. Sorry for your friend fiction, Rivaini” he whispered to the pirate girl. “These two will go on with hatred.”

“Hatred is good for smutty literature, Varric. Do I really have to teach you these things?”

“If you really need to write a friend fiction, Isabela, write it about me and Anders!”

“Hawke, you're cute, but we need to dream, we don't need to write down reality, it's so boring. Plus, sorry to say that, but you and Fenris ain't on the same level of…”

“Uh, uh, I'm not listening!” Hawke shouted as he put his hands on his ears.

Fenris smiled as Isabela winked at him. The elf could not deny he had been jealous of Hawke, now and then. But not really for who he was. More about what he had. If Fenris had been more like him, maybe…

“Seriously” Hawke started again. “There's a job on the Wounded Coast, I need some of you to get along.”

“Too busy” Aveline simply replied.

“I have an appointment in two days I can't miss” Varric said.

“All right. Fenris, Anders and Isa, you come along.”

“I'm not coming if the abomination goes.”

Suddenly, Hawke had lost all his good temper and his fist hit the table with violence. It was this way since his mother died: he laughed and, the next second, was such in a mood no one would dare to even look at him.

“What's wrong with you two?” he shouted. “Since the beginning you quarreled again and again. We are well aware you don't fight for the same ideal but you fight _together_ no matter how much you hate each other. You always have! What's changed?”

“Ask the mage” Fenris barked as he looked away.

“Hey, I'm not the one who refuses to come” he defended himself. “If the _elf_ does not want me to…”

“Hawke, if you need a mage I might…” Merrill began.

“No, Merrill” the warrior responded in a sharply tone. “I don't need you.”

“Hawke, enough!”

Isabela had stood up as well, a reassuring hand on the blood mage's shoulder. Isabela got angry rarely and when she did, it was terrifying. Hawke was usually trying his best to ignore the blood mage at his table but he could not hold back the new anger he fed towards Merrill. And Isabela always took her defense, of course. Did not matter what Hawke lived because of a blood mage.

“I don't need a blo… I don't need a mage, that's all. I need a healer. And a great warrior. I need both of you” he added with a glance at Fenris and Anders. “Whatever happened between you, just do as usual and put it aside during a mission. I've waited enough that you settle it. You used to be professional on journeys. I ask one last time: what's changed?”

“The mage has…”

“Fenris!”

The elf watched the abomination. The shabby coat, the skinny cheeks, the shadows under his eyes, the tiredness on his face. How could he trust him during a fight? But as he was wondering, he remembered how Anders was before the Deep Roads. Exhausted because of the clinic, too thin to be able to carry even a little sword, too busy to make enough poultices for everyone, obliging Hawke to buy some to Lady Elegant. Disheveled hair, suspicious eyes, tiredness in his look and passionate speeches about mages' rights, flash blue light in his eyes: he had always been this way, after all. Fenris just had not noticed it. He had not looked. And despite all this, the mage had killed many enemies and saved a lot of lives.

Maybe it was the reason why Hawke did not see anything. There was nothing more to see. Fenris just caught recently what the mage had always been: physically and mentally weak. But strong enough to be trusted during a fight. Only during the fight.

“Fine” the elf said. “I'll come.”

Hawke was about to respond that he did not answer his question but he gave up. Anders had a lot of secrets. How long did he wait before telling Hawke about the mage underground? The man just had to wait again and Anders would tell him. Trust him. Maker, Garrett was so tired of all this, when will he ever get a break?

 

Fenris was sitting on the chair in his bedroom. He could see three stars through the hole in his roof. He was staring at the piece of sky, his thoughts wandering in the night. His concern about the danger the mage represented had grown into something different, he knew it. As he was watching the abomination, hesitating to tell his friends what was going on, he had come to care about the man.

“Three weeks he returned and he seems just as ill" he said out loud to the sky. "And Hawke… what's going on in his foolish mind so he could make up with him again?”

The elf had not understood how these two could be together again. It was obvious they were not meant to be a happy couple. It was no jealousy, no envy, that made Fenris come to this thought, just curiosity. But after a few days, he came to experience his own loneliness differently. He did not truly want it. He just felt more comfortable alone because he had not to worry about what to say, how to look, how to act. But he realized that he had no one to talk to, no one to watch over him and nothing to care about in this big mansion.

He remembered the two nights when the mage had slept here. The discussion, the breakfast, the breathing next to him. The kiss. The presence. Fenris had broken his own rules of loneliness these nights. And it had destroyed so much more. Now he could not appreciate his loneliness as he did before.

It seemed a sign of the Maker that a knock interrupted his thoughts at this moment. He rose on his feet and got to the door.

“Who is it?”

“The abomination” Anders answered with a sarcastic tone.

Fenris hesitated but opened. The mage stood here, arms crossed, glaring at him. He handed him a bag.

“Potions, poultices and all. It's been five weeks I have not prepared some and you use them more than anyone else. I guessed you ran out and you may need them tomorrow on the Wounded Coast.”

Fenris smirked. He had a tendency to jump into the fight without thinking. He had never been badly wounded only because the healer was behind him but when he came home after a fight, bruises and cuts were countless. He could deal with the pain, but he had never spat on a poultice to ease it.

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome.”

“See you tomorrow.”

“I'm not going. I persuaded Hawke to take Merrill.”

“Why?”

“We both know why. There's a reason why I chose you in the Deep Roads. On a fight… It's better if it's you who goes, that's all. Now more than ever.”

“But I said we could go together. I don't mind.”

“You do!” Anders barked immediately.

He sighed and looked away, hatred all vanished in a second, replaced by this exhaustion that was his.

“I can't be mad at you for that. You've seen the worse in me since the beginning. I gave you no reason to trust me.”

“Oh no, of course. No reason. You did not save me more than once, endanger yourself to heal me on a battlefield, sacrificed your life for mine, bring me poultices late at night when all you need is rest. No reason” he repeated.

“Is there any point in that praise, elf?” Anders asked with a smile, tilting his head.

Fenris chuckled a little, rolling his eyes as he realized the word 'elf' had been said with merely affection.

“Don't get used to it, I'm just saying…”

“I know. Thank you, Fenris. But I don't trust myself either.”

Anders had accepted to come along a few missions with Hawke. Short ones. Easy ones. He had declined the other ones, pretending to be busy or tired. And even during those little quests, he was so worried he could not focus on anything else but the voice inside his head, the aches in his muscles, the craving in his mind, wondering if he could handle it, last the day, last the hour, last the minute.

“You say it often” he commented after a short silence.

“What?”

“'Don't get used to it'. What if I already got used to all this?”

“To what?”

Anders smiled again, shrugged and turned on his heels with a wave.

“Hawke's waiting for me, I should go. Good night!”

Fenris felt something squeezing his heart. So he closed the door and reached the cellar. Getting drunk out of melancholia seemed a good idea. He knew he would find a cure for hangovers in the bag. Another thing the mage had always done for him without him ever noticing it.

 

Fenris entered the Hanged Man and blinked when he saw everyone. Even Anders and Sebastian were sitting at the table. Only Aveline was absent but she had been busy these last days. She would surely meet them later.

“What's going on?” he asked, putting his sword against the wall to sit with them.

“The mission is canceled. There's a more urgent matter. I've seen the Viscount this morning after he sent me a letter. I have to talk to the Arishok and I'd like you to watch my back.”

“All of us?”

“Sebastian, Anders and you, you'll go to the docks with me. Isabela, Merrill and Varric will look for information about all this mess, trying to know what people think of all this. The Viscount's son converting to the Qun… as if the situation was not already complicated. All this is going to explode. I just want to be prepared.”

 

They entered the Qunari Compound and the Arishok did not seem surprised to see them. As they were talking, the suspicion rose and they all shared a glance when it became obvious that everything was going wrong.

“He went to his father” the Arishok said. “Ask the Viscount why he would send you and a letter both.”

“That seems strange” Hawke commented, furrowing his brow.

“They are meeting at the Chantry. A last, pointless appeal, I assume.”

“The Viscount would involve the Chantry?” Anders asked.

“No” Hawke answered in an angry voice. “But we know who would. Mother Petrice.”

They all nodded and left the Arishok with the promise that Petrice would pay. Everything after that became quite surreal and happened so fast. The Viscount's son was dead, there was a fight, a Qunari killed Petrice and when they looked at the bloody floor of the Chantry, they knew what was coming. The Viscount's distress in front of the corpse of his son sealed Kirkwall's destiny. No one stood any longer against the danger now. There, at the feet of a golden statue in the holy building, was kneeling the man who was supposed to protect the city, broken. But Hawke was standing there too, watching silently until the Viscount asked him to leave. Hawke was still standing, after everything.

He decided that the city was more important than giving back the relic to Castillon. Hoping the Qunari would leave the city with their precious property, Hawke had asked Isabela to be someone she was not by returning the possession to its rightful owner. But Isabela fled with the relic. And when she came back for him, they all knew it would never be back the way it was before. Because it was not enough for Hawke, neither for the Arishok.

“The relic is reclaimed. I am now free to return to Par Vollen… with the thief.”

“What?”

Hawke glanced at her. They all knew what he was going to do. He was Hawke, after all, standing for his family, for his city, for his title and for his friends. He accepted the duel with the Arishok. And he became Champion of Kirkwall. Just like that. He was a leader, a Hero, and it seemed that nothing could ever break him. Little did the world know how broken he was inside.

 

Three months were needed so that the city was cleaned of all trace of the Qunari attack. It looked like everything was going back to normal, but Hawke knew everything had changed. Even this Wicked Grace night was not like the other ones. The cards were left on the table, abandoned of all attention. Sebastian had not come, neither Anders nor Aveline. Isabela and Merrill were talking while Varric was cleaning Bianca. Seemed like the Qunari blood was resistant – they had cleared the Wounded Coast of all the Tal-Vashoths this day but they still kept coming back.

“Thank you, Fenris, for proposing the duel” Hawke suddenly said, sitting next to the elf. “Who knows what would have happened if you did not.”

“I was… being pragmatic. But inside… If you had died…”

“Oh come on! I'm strong, fast, skilled…”

“Modest and humble” Fenris finished for him.

“Exactly! Champion of Kirkwall...”

He curled his nose and emptied his mug of ale.

“It does not sound like it should. When Meredith and Orsino asked for my opinion, I realized that… I don't know, siding the mages all this time might have been…”

“A mistake?”

“No, Maker, no! It feels like something is on the edge, now. Something I started and I cannot stop.”

Fenris felt quite the same. Everything seemed to collapse and they could only watch silently as the world was rolling and the time rushing.

“How is Anders?” the elf asked.

“Anders is fine. He worked hard today. Problems at the Bone pit, clinic overwhelmed. Why do you ask?”

“He seemed… tired lately.”

“He always is” Hawke sighed, rolling his eyes.

“Is it… fine, between you two?”

Fenris did not know why he asked, neither why he cared nor what he hoped. The answer was not what he expected, but it relieved him.

“Fenris. Anders and I are not… what you think. Not anymore.”

Hawke cleared his throat and began to drink until he remembered his mug was empty. He smiled and rose on his feet to fetch more. That was just an excuse to be alone a little while. He stared at Fenris and wondered what the elf expected. Maybe Anders was not what Hawke deserved.

“What do I see?” Isabela asked, leaning above the table to look closer at Fenris. “Is this… pleasing you? Hmm, and which of them do you attend to seduce? Hawke… again? Or Sparklefinger?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I know the answer. Do you?”

“Did I miss something again?” Merrill asked with a disappointed look.

“A lot, Kitten. A lot. Fenris thought Anders and Hawke still had incredible sex nights – that would please me, I would not refuse a threesome sometimes. And now he is relieved he was wrong.”

“But I thought so too! We did not know Hawke and you... Anders moved on with Hawke” Merill commented, shocked as, for the first time, dirty thoughts seemed to cross her mind.

“Poor Kitten, can't you see the loneliness of their hearts?” Isabela asked with a melodramatic tone and an exaggerated gesture of the hand towards her own chest, smirking when they all looked at her fingers on her breast. “Enjoying the view? Anyway, Anders has not slept alone since the Deep Roads. That's what I've heard. I went to the clinic one night – I had a… personal issue – and he was not here. Apparently, he has not spent time alone in a while, if I believe the rumors in the Blooming Rose to be true. And he returns there when I visit Hawke, he says we make too much noise” she whispered before bursting into laughter.

Hawke and Isabela only found comfort at nights, it seemed. The pirate did not seem to understand Garrett needed more than that. Garrett had found what he sought in Anders' arms. He believed it would be the way it was before. But Anders had changed. Sorrow. Hawke could not bear another burden. So he just abandoned him again. Selfish.

“Anders?” Fenris asked in a rumble. “At the Blooming Rose?”

“Oh, hear him growling at the idea! Why be jealous when there's so much potential fun?”

“Who's jealous of who?” Hawke asked with a new pint in his hand.

“No one!” Fenris answered immediately. “Isabela is dreaming again.”

“You know, Fenris, sometimes dreams come true!”

“It's true!” Merrill confirmed. “Once I dreamed I was surrounded by insects and when I woke up, there were bugs and spiders everywhere!”

“It's because you live in a shit hole sweetheart."

Merrill sighed but did not deny and Isabela wrapped her shoulders, whispering jokes she must find comforting. Hawke sat again next to Fenris and raised an eyebrow.

“Actually” the dwarf who had remained silent interrupted, “I do think there's something going on with Blondie. He's not just tired. Hawke, did he ever tell you what happened in the Deep Roads?”

“He did not. I tried to ask but…”

“Try harder” Varric just said as he tenderly stroked Bianca. “Blondie is acting strangely. He does not even like Templar jokes anymore. And where is he now? I mean, you say he had a tough day and all, but it's late now. He knows you're here, he would have joined us, it's on the way to your estate. So what's keeping him there? Maybe we should check on him, make sure he does not heal patients until dawn or he'll kill himself.”

“I leave now.”

“You? Hawke, don't get mad at me, but you never refuses him anything. He'll argue with 'one more patient' until the end of the night and you'll say 'All right, I wait you at home' and…”

“Got the idea!” Hawke replied, a little upset.

Fenris stared at the dwarf, trying to understand why he would do such a thing. He knew he was manipulating them… on purpose.

“I know where this leads” he said, crossing his arms. “Isabela and Varric, you're already home and won't leave, Merrill is just… out of it, Aveline is not here and I have to wander in Darktown and tell the mage to go back to Hightown with me because he's too weak to defend himself and it's time to get back home and sleep. I'm not his mother!”

“No, but you're his… er… Let me think, I'll find it…”

“Hawke, just tell Broody he's your friend and you ask for a favor.”

Fenris sighed. The day he allowed himself to have friends, he had run into trouble.

“Fine.”

He fetched his sword and left the Hanged Man. He dreaded being alone with the mage and was not sure what it meant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been writing a lot lately but this story just doesn't... I don't know, I'm struggling. I hope you'll like it anyway, I have a few chapters left already written. I'll find a way to finish this, I promise.  
> Again, thanks for the kudos, on this story or the others. It's cheerful.  
> See you soon for the next chapter!


	10. Make me fear you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO MUCH for the kudos and comments, on this sory and the other ones. I really enjoy talking with you, you're cute and kind and I think I might belong here, after all.  
> I like reading you a lot as well and I really found my place here, with all your beautiful writings.  
> Thanks for sharing your opinions, for the compliments, for the kudos. For everything. I hope this will last a long time!
> 
> So about the new chapter, I think we're getting close to the middle. Maybe. And to the part that I have not written yet. Maybe I'll be slower posting then.  
> Hope you'll like this new part.

He could not help it. He could not stop staring at the mage who's head was laying on his desk, his arms bonelessly falling at the chair's sides. The hatred he had carried all these years had just vanished when he entered the dark silent clinic and saw the abomination unconscious. He was full of emptiness as he watched the apostate, wondering if he still breathed. But there was relief as well, a certain quietude he knew nothing about.

His hand reached the mage's face and he chased a strand of golden hair. When had he begun to feel this way towards his enemy?

“You are not my enemy” he whispered. “No more of this.”

The mage did not move. Fenris could not get closer, check the breathing, the heartbeat. He felt unable to face the truth. But his fingers made their way to the mage's throat and waited for a pulse. They waited a long time. Finally there it was, a weak and slow heartbeat, and Fenris smiled.

“What about it now? What am I supposed to do, mage? Tell no one? Keep the secret and say you're just tired? How many times have you said those words while you were just dying inside?”

Fenris sighed. He was used to talk alone, talk to the emptiness, to himself. But more now than ever, he wanted answers. He grabbed the abomination's shoulders and pulled so that the man would lean on the back of the chair. He reached a healing potion and spilled it in the mage's mouth. He waited a few minutes but the potion was not enough. When his eyes analyzed the room as he searched for a solution, he saw all the empty bottles and, at their bottoms, the remains of a blue liquid. Was he ready to do this, to allow it?

“It's poisoning you, you fool!”

He squatted next to the mage and took his hand before activating his lyrium brands, hoping it would suffice. The reaction was immediate: the mage's eyelids moved, his fingers shivered and a weak moan escaped his throat. He remained unconscious one or two minutes, but he finally woke up.

“Fenris” he just said when he glanced at his environment. “What are you doing here? I must have fallen asleep, how late is it?”

Then Anders stared at him, his eyes sliding on the glowing tattoos. Fenris was about to speak but a flash blue light crossed Anders' eyes and spread in his whole body.

“ **Step back, elf!”**

“Mage, if you can hear me, fight the demon. I need to speak with you. Control it!”

“ **Anders can't hear you**.”

“I don't believe you.”

Fenris squeezed the abomination's fingers harder.

“Mage, you're being weak! I can't remain silent and watch you lie to our friends, poison yourself and die alone in your stinky clinic. Whatever it takes, mage. Whatever it takes.”

Justice's eyelashes fluttered and then Anders was back. He took his hand back and sighed.

“Nathaniel called me mage once. He said 'Do you have a point, mage?' just like you. After that, he called me Anders. Never called me 'mage' again. I often wondered why. And now I wonder if you ever will. I know it's not my real name and it should not matter that much. But it's an identity. You're stealing it from me. Like I'm not someone. You're stealing what makes me unique in order to compare me to those magisters you hate so much. I'm nothing like them. I am me, Anders from the Anderfels, mage, apostate, Grey Warden and seeker of justice. You may not see it but I won't let you tear me away from myself.

Fenris had not expected such a speech. But he felt like he was the one who was being torn away from himself by unwanted feelings.

“You're calling for the human part inside of me when Justice takes control. And yet you never let me be someone. Be me. I never called you knife ears because that's not how I see you. But you turned the word 'mage' into an insult just for me. Stop insulting me, Fenris, and I might be able to feel whole again and fight what you think is a demon.”

“I never meant to insult you.”

“No, of course not. Mage, abomination, those are very friendly terms, right? Especially from your mouth.”

“Mage, I…”

Fenris sighed. The faint pain that ran in his body reminded him his markings were still activated. He looked at the brands on his palms, the lyrium, a plague inflicted to his body.

“You deserve no insult.”

“I never felt like I deserved anything when I'm with you.”

“Remember what I said when you saved me in the Deep Roads? That you made my life more worthy by your sacrifice? I meant it.”

Anders did not answer. He stared at the elf, at those deep green eyes, and saw no lie, no hatred. It was the second time he trusted Fenris. So he just nodded and smiled briefly. He definitely got used to all this.

“I should go now. Is it late? Why are you here?”

“I've been tasked to walk you home, you defenseless damsel.”

“You? Of all people? How clever!”

“Well, since it appeared I just saved your life, you could be more grateful.”

“I assume you just saved it by not killing me? It's the logical outcome of your twisted mind.”

“No, mage. You were… barely breathing” Fenris almost whimpered.

“Oh” he whispered, surprised by the elf's tone. “That's all right. It happens sometimes.”

Fenris raised his eyebrows, wondering if he was serious or not. It did not seem like a joke but it could not be real. He stood up and waited for the apostate to do so.

“We're leaving. Pick up your stuff.”

“Fenris?”

“Hmm?”

“Could you… I mean, you're glowing again. It kinda… frightens me. Why are you glowing?”

Fenris cleared his throat. It was not surprising that the mage had thought he had come to kill him again and let Justice take over. But this time, for once, his markings had not killed, but saved.

“I saw the bottles of lyrium. I assumed it was what you needed. And I was right.”

“That you were.”

Anders stood up as well but started to fall, until Fenris caught him. He felt the warmth of the mage's body, the blond hair tickling his cheek, the scent of elfroot hitting his nose. It was all sudden, as his arms were supporting the apostate: a wave of unknown feelings he could barely understand. The touch of Anders' skin on his activated markings was softer than he expected. The pain was far, hidden in his mind. He was unaware of it, as the closeness of their bodies filled him up with as much desire as reluctance. He was almost embracing the mage, the abomination who carried a demon inside of his body, who fought for everything he had always stood up against. The freedom of his kind, which would inevitably come with blood magic, more abominations. Another Tevinter society in all the Free Marches, where he had found a home; Sort of.

“I'm all right, you can let me go, now.”

But Fenris did not move, his arms wrapped around the mage, stroking the rough fabric of his coat, breathing the feathers on the shoulders. He was not ready to lose his believes. But Anders was fighting for something different because of the kindness of his heart. Foolish mage, did he not know he was probably the only healer running a free clinic for poor people? He was like no others and as soon as the mages were free, they'd turn on everything simple and forbidden, because none of them was like Anders.

“Just shut up” Fenris murmured in the apostate's hear. “For a minute.”

A few seconds passed by and then he felt the touch of two hands on his back. Fenris was aware of the beating of his heart, but he could almost hear Anders' too. It was comforting: a comfort he had craved for all these years and never found. Here it was, in a mage's arms. It was a logical outcome, he had lived surrounded by this kind. Once he had found one worth it, he would not let him go. It was too rare to be lost.

He finally pushed away and what he saw made him jump. He stepped back as he looked at the blue mingling the amber eyes. Anders shook his head. He had felt it too, the sudden hatred that was certainly not his. The craving for the branded lyrium skin. The elf had no right to make him crave for something he could not have. The elf was a distraction and an obstacle, for he was the one who would kill him if he knew. But no one had to know about his plans. And he could use Fenris to make him a martyr before his end was lost.

Fenris took another step backwards.

“I'm not leaving tonight” Anders said, looking away. “I was writing my manifesto and I have to continue.”

“Your manifesto?”

Fenris heard the lie, the secrecy, the mystery. He heard the fear, the relief, the determination. He heard it all: Anders, Justice, Vengeance.

“Don't you think your manifesto is useless?”

Anders widened his eyes and looked up at Fenris. The warrior had made many remarks on his fight for mages, on the Underground, on his idea of revolt, but never had he criticized the manifesto, for it was just paper and words: harmless. Better than killing templars and freeing mages. A new flash blue light crossed Anders' eyes but Fenris could not stop. The hatred was back, the disgust towards the monster he was facing, the memories of slaves being bled for magic. Summoning demons, dealing with them, begging for favors and paying the price with another's blood.

“It's not even pertinent. Your arguments are destroyed by the reality. All your theories were proved wrong by the Magister Imperium. I have lived the dream you'd die for and it was a nightmare. Circles are not the problem. People are. Mages who do the wrong choices and use their power for self-interest, templars who overwhelm their position, others who just shut their eyes and pretend they don't see. We don't need to destroy the system. The system works as long as mages are watched because they are the most of two evils. There are sacrifices on both sides, that's all. If you had stayed in the Circle you would not be a monster.”

“A monster? “

Pale blue cracks appeared all over Anders' body but Fenris could not stop talking. He wanted to kill the man as much as he wanted to save him. Maybe both at the same time.

“That's what you are, mage.”

“ **Stop calling me mage!”**

Fenris widened his eyes and realized what was happening. He was not speaking to Justice. The voices were melted in one, the thoughts had merged, he was speaking to Anders, and yet to Justice as well. The blue light grew more and more intense, as it never was.

“ **You are everything I despise, from your stubbornness to your constant brooding. You hate all mages because of what a few makes you suffer. Yes, you suffered, as we all did. There is no justice in life, in the pain we endure everyday. Do you think your excuses are valuable? And mine, are they not? I will bring justice to this world, to all of the oppressed people, who cry alone in the dark, hoping that someone would save them. Nobody saved you, nobody saved me. It is time someone makes it change, at all costs! There is no one I would not kill to see mages free.”**

“And there is no one I would not kill to prevent that from happening, mage.”

“ **Stop calling me mage! Can't you see me as normal people?”**

“You may have the look, the suit and the scorn but in the end you are an abomination, just like all the rest of mages are potential monsters. I have suffered them my whole life and I killed every last abomination that crossed my path. And I will kill you just like all the rest of them!”

“ **So w** **hat are you waiting for, warrior?** **Are you afraid?”**

Fenris knew the risks. He was facing something new, something different. It was no spirit, no mage, no classic abomination. It was a body full of mana, of hatred, of anger, with distorted mind and broken soul. He was looking past the blue light and saw the madness in the apostate's pupils. He saw this as no weakness, but as an illness. An illness that needed a cure.

He grasped the mage's collar and shoved him against the wall, his lyrium brands more powerful than ever, the pain lingering on his skin. So he beat the mage's cheek with all his strength, keeping his fist far from the heart that was beating nearby.

“You won't kill me, for I'm the last thing that ties you up with your humanity. There's a voice inside of you that's calling for this humanity. And I won't kill you now because I think there might still be a chance. A chance you deserve to be given. I have a debt I intend to pay. But I make you this promise: as soon as I decide it is too late, I will plunge my fist in your chest and crush your corrupted heart. And then we'll see, Anders, mage, apostate, Grey Warden and seeker of justice, if you succeed in making yourself a martyr.”

As soon as he heard his name, the mage had stopped glowing. He spat on the floor to get rid of the blood in his mouth. He pushed the elf and hit back, hit and hit the elf's cheek. No magic. All this hatred they both carried needed to be expressed in the slowest and most exhausting way. The fists hitting the skin, the muscles, the bones. Bruises, cuts, blood, wounded flesh and wounded hearts. Fenris responded and shoved Anders against the wall again. The mage's head hit the stones and he closed his eyes briefly, stunned. When he opened them again, Fenris' green pupils were close and he froze. Did all this need to be so dramatic? He rolled his eyes and sighed, looking away. If the elf wanted to beat him more to show his hatred, it was fine. Anders was already tired of playing this game.

But he realized the rules had changed when he became aware of the warrior's proximity. So he looked at the green eyes again and sought for an answer. But there was no answer, for there was no question. It was just the warmth of their bodies, the adrenalin in their veins, the feeling that the world had finally stopped rolling and they could catch a breath, for a short moment. They both felt it. The breath. One smelled like blood and the other like wine. Did they truly hate each other? Or did they desperately need someone to be mad at, for all they'd experienced and still lived? For the unspoken sorrow they had preferred to turn into anger?

“I hate you.”

“I know, mage. I know.”

This time, it was Anders who deleted the distance between them. But it was not like the soft, gentle and meaningless kiss they shared. It was violent, full of blood and empty of all control. It was the abandon itself.

Fenris' hands pulled Ander's hair to free his throat from his collar and the elf left the broken lips to explore the pale skin with his mouth. He snarled when the feathers tickled his cheek and he untied the belt of the coat. A few seconds later, the holed fabric hit the floor at their feet. Anders shuddered briefly. He was not used to wear only his shirt, but the warmth of Fenris' body penetrated him and he could only hope he'd get rid of his other clothes soon to feel this warmth deeper inside of him. Fenris' lips claimed his and he opened his mouth, waiting for the soft tongue to stroke his again. His own hands were exploring each piece of bare skin he could reach. Face, neck, arms. His fingers brushed Fenris' legs through the leggings and the elf's body got closer until there was no space between them for any other move.

Anders' hand wiped the blood that was running down Fenris' cheek from the cut on his cheekbone before grasping the white hair with impatience. He needed more. More than the pain in his mouth and his head, more than the touch of fingers on his torso, more than the lips and the breath. He moaned when lyrium branded hands slipped under his tunic and pushed back the elf so he could get rid of it, but Fenris struggled to stay close, his body leaning against Anders' allowing no move, his fingers tickling the soft skin.

“Stop teasing!” Anders groaned, trying again to remove his shirt.

He felt Fenris' lips stretching as he smiled and their gazes met.

“Straight to the point, mage?”

Anders' fingers reached the warrior's wrist and grabbed it violently. If this was a game of domination, he would gladly play. He snatched the left gauntlet and tossed it away. He lowered his head so he could lick the dark and white skin, kissing the jaw to finally reach the neck. It even tasted like lyrium and it felt so good, it was so warm, as if all the Fade was sending incredible power to those beautiful glowing markings. The restless voices in his head were satisfied and he could ignore them, the aches in his body were shoved by the other pleasant sensations that spread everywhere. He had never felt so calm inside in months, but his body was all overwhelmed. He grabbed the elf's throat and pressed hard, just enough to reverse the positions in a quick rotation of their bodies despite Fenris' resistance. When Fenris leaned against the wall, he smiled and let him go until he removed the other gauntlet. His fingers brushed a little piece of bare skin on the hips, that the tunic had released in their previous fight, and the mage freed the magic in his hands. Immediately, Fenris snarled and his body tensed, his back arching as a moan escaped his throat. His fist hit Anders' cheek again but, without the gauntlet, the damage were not enough to be a real threat.

“Don't!”

“Come on, I'm not stupid. I know it does not hurt you. It's healing magic. You'd have felt it on the battlefield if it hurt.”

“Spare me your speech. Don't use magic on me, mage.”

“Or what?” Anders asked as he cast a new spell. “I am Sparklefinger. I have skills you…”

He was interrupted by the teeth who caught his broken lip to bite it hard and he replied with a new spell. Fenris moaned again, closing his eyes. This game was going to be an endless battle. Fenris grabbed Anders' collar with violence. Their faces were so close that Anders could feel the white hair of the elf tickling is forehead. A few seconds passed as Fenris was trying to catch his breath, panting.

“Listen to me, mage” he articulated slowly. “If you wish to keep your hands, I suggest you...”

He was interrupted when Anders was pulling away from his grasp by an unknown hand.

“I am going to kill you both!” Hawke shouted as he was still holding Anders' arm. “What's wrong with you? Fenris, you were supposed to walk him home, not kill him! And stop glowing, for God's sake!”

Fenris caught a deep breath and shook his head to steady his mind. His lyrium brands faded and the dark filled the room, only broken by the candle burning on the desk nearby.

“I never thought you'd actually _fight_. Look at you! It's pathetic.”

Anders' bottom lip was bleeding and he wiped his chin with his already stained tunic. Fenris' cheek was covered with dry blood and bruises began to appear on his neck.

“I can't trust you!”

“Hawke, I…”

“Shut up! I don't wanna hear anything. You” he said, pointing his fingers down at Anders “you stay here and we'll have a little talk. And you, Fenris, you better go now before I do something I might regret!”

The elf grasped his gauntlets, reached the sword he had let near the door and left the room quickly. Anders looked at Hawke and sighed.

“So? Will you explain? You've been acting strangely for months, now. You refuse quests, you miss Wicked Grace nights, and now you're messing with the 'I'll crush your beating heart in your chest' elf. What the hell is going on?”

“It was not his fault, Hawke. I have… issues.”

“Yes!” Hawke replied in an angry voice. “I know! And now you tell me or I swear I'll do worse than ripping your heart out.”

“Fenris knows. He… tried to help.”

“By beating you?”

“Yes. No. It was just… out of control. Justice… becomes stronger.”

“For Andraste's sake, Anders! Explain!”

“Since the Deep Roads he has been different. I might be a danger, for you, our friends, and for me. That's why Fenris did not want to come with me on missions, and that's why I refused so many. I have no control over him.”

“How? How did you manage to hide this from all of us? And why didn't Fenris tell everything?”

“I asked him not to. It'll be all right, Hawke. I have a plan.”

“All right? Are you kidding me? I've been _sympathetic_ since you returned from the Deep Roads. I let you move in with me because you're my friend and I thought it was best for you. And I thought after all this time I _deserved_ better than lies and excuses.”

“Hawke, I'm sorry, I'd do anything to…”

“Don't. I'll come home alone tonight. Here is money if you wish to spend the night away from Darktown, as usual.”

He handed him the coins and then left without a word. Anders could not tell him the truth. He had to protect him. Because there was so much he was going to destroy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so there's something like a "clin d'oeil" to supernatural here. Will you see it?  
> And... well, Justice is not Justice anymore. Not all the time. And Anders goes blue but still is Anders and remembers. I KNOW! But I do what I want héhé.  
> Sorry Hawke interrupted. He won't next time. Well, I'll try to hold him back ;)  
> Hope you liked it. Feel free to comment.  
> And, as usual, see you soon for the next chapter!


	11. I am Anders

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today I learned something. I learned that we actually say 'used to +ing' Seriously, for a fic named "don't get usd to it" I'm quite ashamed. Hope it did not disturb you too much though there might be more terrible mistakes elsewhere.
> 
> I also learned that not taking your vitamins in the morning will have you beg for a bed and pillows all day long. Seriously, I'm a bit afraid of sitting on a confortable sofa, I might not be able to stand up again after that. Ever.

“What do you need, sweetheart?”

Fenris hesitated. He did not know if he could trust her. If Lady Elegant told Hawke what he asked, it would be like a betrayal. But the mage needed him. What happened between them might have been a mistake, however he could not help thinking that the apostate deserved a chance. He was willing to make everything necessary to give him this chance and pay his debt.

“I have a theoretical question for you” he said with a sigh. “What if a mage had… I don't know… been in contact with raw lyrium. What if he had…”

“I'd say immediately he'd die. For you or me, it would be dangerous, but for a mage, it's a mortal poison. A mage touches it, he dies in a second. Simple.”

“Yes, but if he does not.”

“That's impossible.”

“I know! Just tell me, if you could imagine the mage survived. Then what?”

“Well, the raw lyrium would have the same effect than on humans I guess: pain and madness.”

“That's all? He would not die after a while?”

“Theoretically, everything's possible with lyrium. No one ever made experiments of this sort.”

Fenris noticed her glance at his markings and he glowered at her. There were many secrets about lyrium that did not need to be made public.

“How can I know if he will die or just lose his mind? And is there a solution?”

“This is not my range of expertise, but if, potentially, a mage could survive the touch with raw lyrium, he would not live long after that. It would be a miracle if he lasted more than a few minutes, a few days.”

“What about months?”

“All right, stop beating about the bush and tell me. I may help you.”

He frowned and looked away.

“I won't tell Hawke, you know. Unless you want me to.”

“No. He must not know. You know Anders, right?”

“Of course I do. I can't miss such an attractive man. Especially when he's with you and Hawke. Every eyes are upon you in the streets of Lowtown, you know.”

“In the Deep Roads, he somehow assimilated lyrium. In its raw form. He's been ill since, in pain. Addict to lyrium potions too. I found him close to death the other night. I need a cure.”

“There is no cure. The damage on humans are permanent.”

“He is a mage.”

Lady Elegant narrowed her eyes and looked around her, as if she feared to be listened. Fenris was tempted to give the whole information but admitting Anders was an apostate was already dangerous. If he confessed he was also possessed by a Fade spirit, he would sign his death warrant.

“I have no information for you. But Varric is your friend. He is a dwarf. And if there is one person in all Thedas who can help you, you can be sure he'd be a dwarf.”

“I can't tell Varric.”

“It's your only hope. For now, all I can do for you is potions.”

“Is there anything you know that would help? Have you a recipe? Anything?”

“Something a mage would not know? Maybe. I'll make research.”

They came to an agreement and when Fenris wanted to pay her, she refused. He did not ask why and thanked her. Before he left, she repeated that he would need a dwarf. But Varric was a surface dwarf, what could he possibly know about all these stuff? However, he had contacts. Was Fenris ready to break Anders' trust in order to save his life?

He was about to leave Lowtown when a voice called him.

“Broody!”

Was it a sign of the Maker? No. The Maker had abandoned them for their mistakes. And he would not even help a person so worthy as Anders, no doubt.

“Varric.”

“What brings you here? Bored in your giant mansion? You've disappeared for almost a week now. Hawke told us what happened. I can't blame you, Blondie lacks of tact. But you know, brooding in your old house ain't a solution.”

“I'm not brooding.”

“Care to share a drink? Sebastian and Anders are in there and, believe me, I would not spit on another's company.”

“So you escaped?” Fenris asked with a smirk.

Sebastian and Anders were unbearable when together. Worse than Fenris and the mage. Hawke always managed not to take them along on the same quest.

“Yes. I wanted to speak with Blondie, you know. And unfortunately, Sebastian appeared, looking for Hawke. And then they began to quarrel. It never ends. Anyway, I need to talk to you about a mission on the Wounded Coast again.”

Fenris sighed but followed the dwarf. They entered the Hanged man and reached the table where Anders was laughing hard, probably mocking the Chantry Boy.

“Easy boys! Broody's here.”

All eyes were upon him and he greeted them before sitting on a chair.

“What's up?” Anders asked with a light tone.

“I got caught by a stubborn dwarf who can't solve a problem on his own.”

“A problem?”

“You two.”

“Oh, come on. It's just a talk.”

But somehow, behind the laughter and the light tone, there was an ire that emerged. Deep, intense, it was growing.

“You seem very angry” Sebastian commented in an indifferent voice.

“And here I thought the Chantry was against mind reading” Anders replied sarcastically.

“Did something happen to you in the circle? I understand there were problems in Ferelden.”

Even Fenris would never have tried to talk about Anders' past, the Circle and Ferelden in just one sentence. The mage crossed his arms and his jaw tensed.

“Are you saying the mages can only be unhappy in the circle if demons were involved? No, it's not about Uldred. It's not about being beaten or raped by a templar. That does happen – but I've been fortunate. It's a larger principle.”

Fortunate. With all this anger towards the templars and all the fear to be taken by the Circle, he dared to say he had been fortunate. Then what would it be to be unfortunate?

“All right. Just shut up. Both of you. Blondie, no mages' rights talk today. Sebastian, I asked and have been said that Hawke came to see Merrill. They have a situation to settle, just like the one you should be settling between you. All of you” he added with a glance at Fenris. “So you can go to the alienage if it's an urgent matter or go back to the Chantry and I'll send him there when I see him.”

They all stood up, but Varric shook his head.

“Blondie, Broody, you stay. Shit, these situations are unbearable. We need a little chat. The two of you as well, I think.”

Fenris suddenly realized he had been fooled. The dwarf was as clever as sneaky.

“What do you want, Varric?” Anders asked with a suspicious look.

“There's a mission on the Wounded Coast. Hawke wants both of you this time, so you need to make peace. Hawke will be upset if one of you killed the other.”

“Then he's howling at the bloody moon! Since he did not care about the Bone Pit, I still have patients to take care of. I can't just heal them and 'bye', you know? They count on me. Tell him the Bone Pit is more important than the Wounded Coast and I may consider coming.”

“You know Hawke, when he decides something...”

“Yeah. But he does not need me for some routine patrol!”

Maker, this anger, this terrible powerful intense anger that wormed its way in his mind. Was it his? It was unjust that the workers got wounded – or worse – at the Bone Pit while Hawke and his associate took all of the money, safe in their big estates. He hated them both for that.

“ **Hawke must act, or I will.”**

“Blondie?”

Fenris immediately grasped the mage's collar and pulled him quickly, until they reached Varric's room under curious gazes, and slammed the door shut with a bare foot behind them.

“ **Let go of me, elf!”**

Fenris released Anders – or Justice? – and sighed.  Varric joined them and crossed his arms.

“I'm tired of this shit” he just said while staring at the blue cracks on Anders' body. “Justice, please leave Blondie, we were talking.”

“ **I _am_ Anders. I will not be tricked by senseless speeches. Words proved themselves useless. I must act, for the workers in the Bone Pit, for the poors in Darktown and for all the mages across the Free Marches!”**

“You take care of it” Varric ordered the elf as he sat nearby with a tired look on his face.

“Why me? I am not…”

“Stop lying. I know you two are...”

“ **Humans. Liars. They're all wearing masks and when the time has come, they show their true colors in tears and sorrows.”**

Fenris' brow furrowed and he took a step closer to the mage.

“Mage, you have the control you want to take. Don't do as Magisters do, as slavers do. Do the right thing and don't chose facility. It's not an easy path that will lead you to victory, but a peaceful one. Show them you're worthy of freedom before asking for it. You are free to take control, but do you wish it?”

“ **I do.”**

“Then prove I'm wrong about the Circle! Because here and now I deeply believe everything I ever said about it.”

“Er, Broody?” Varric interrupted, concern in his voice. “I'm not sure this is the…”

“I take care of it!” Fenris shouted at the dwarf without breaking eye-contact with Anders.

He took another step forward and the mage was suddenly close enough. Fenris raised a hand.

“Stop being weak.”

“ **I'm not weak!”** he shouted at the warrior, blue ire firing in his eyes.

Fenris sighed and looked at the floor, his hand still raised in the air. What to do, what to say? The elf was never good at comforting, easing sadness and pain. He fed anger and hatred with bitterness and aggressiveness.

“You are a healer, mage” he said staring at the blue eyes. “You are a former Grey Warden. You saved as many lives as I destroyed. This is _who_ you are. Don't mind you're possessed, you're a mage, you're an apostate. What you are would mean nothing if you showed the world who you truly are. You saved Hawke's sister, Varric's brother, you saved me. It is time to save Anders, to save all mages in Thedas instead of condemning them. This is what you'll do walking that path. We should not fear people like you. Don't make us fear you.”

Anders slowly realized what was happening in his mind. He felt lost, so lost, between the Fade and the reality. He needed lyrium to show him the path. More than once he felt his mind breaking, unable to tell the difference between dreams and reality and then he just reached a bottle of this blue liquid and everything eased. The pain, the doubts, the cravings.

Anders hesitated but his fingers touched a lyrium brand on Fenris' palm and everything faded. The anger, the fear, the doubts, the confusion. So he got closer. He wanted to recover what was lost, this little piece of his mind he had abandoned in the Deep Roads.

“Fenris. This is it. Now I know.”

“What?”

“I told you I had not lost anything to lyrium yet. Now I have.”

Fenris held the mage's hand firmly in his and breathed again. There was so little time now. It might be too late to search a solution. If only he had done more, sooner. But he was just as foolish as the mage, denying what was obvious. He had thought he and Hawke... it prevented him from accepting what was growing. This and the blue cracks on pale skin he hated so much.

“You'll do it, won't you?” Anders asked, tilting his head, brow furrowed.

“What?”

“You'll kill me once too late.”

“Before it is too late. I gave you my word.”

“Broody, do I really have to remind you what happened last time you gave your word?”

Mage and elf turned their glances toward him and he raised his hands, as if to apologize. He did not really want to get involved in this, it was obvious. But he sighed and finally stood and crossed his arms on his haired chest again.

“Time to explain.”

“Explain what? I was angry, I lost control, Justice took over. Won't happen again. Sorry. See ya.”

Anders turned on his heels but Fenris stepped on the way and shook his head.

“Varric is a dwarf.”

Anders raised an eyebrow and his lips quirked up a bit.

“Are you saying this because he is short? Or is it the chest hair?”

“They know lyrium.”

Immediately, Anders' smile faded and he took a step backwards.

“You promised not to tell any…”

“I did not promise such a thing. Varric” he began without looking at the dwarf. “Anders touched raw lyrium in the Deep Roads. Since, he is addicted to it. If he does not take his bottle, he is in pain, and his mind is… troubled.”

“Wow!” Varric just said. “Is that all? Because I…”

“Justice ate the lyrium. He gained power.”

 _“_ _Andraste's_ flaming knickerweasels” Varric exclaimed.

“Hey! Don't steal my awesome sense of speech” Anders exclaimed in a false light tone.

“Blondie, you are…”

The insults were covered by Anders' embarrassed laughter and Fenris sighed again. He was aware of his hand still wrapped around the mage's. He could not admit he had wanted it the whole passed week. But it tasted like ashes now that he had what he craved for.

“Sit” Varric ordered. “Wait here, I will need a drink. Lots of drinks.”

He disappeared and Fenris and Anders were alone. Finally, the mage realized he was still holding Fenris' hand and tried to remove his but the warrior strengthened his grasp, without looking at him.

“Varric could help.”

“He will tell Hawke.”

“Perhaps.”

“And he won't be of any help. No one can help me.”

“We don't know that.”

Anders knew when the elf was making short sentences, it was useless to talk any further. But it felt like they did not need to talk anyway. Varric returned and nodded when he found them both sitting near the table, ready to have this unpleasant talk.

“Now tell me _everything_.”

“The fool mage says lyrium was singing nearby and he used it to restore his mana and now his pet demon is too powerful and he loses his mind when…”

“Oh, please, don't dramatize. It's been months now and it's not getting worse. By the way, the crisis are more sudden and intense when you're near.”

The elf furrowed his brow and crossed his arms, releasing the mage's hand. Was it because of the lyrium on his skin? Or because Justice believed Fenris was a 'distraction'. Then a thought suddenly came to his mind and he glared at Anders. How was he a distraction for the abomination? Again, was it because of the lyrium brands? Was he used to ease the crisis when they came?

So many questions, so many possibilities. 'Why bother with them?'. Fenris shook his head and is hand reached the apostate's again, who smiled discreetly and briefly. This smile made Fenris' heart hammer in his chest and he just snarled in disapproval.

“You know, it's not that bad. Before, I was always in pain. Now it comes and goes, that's all. There's nothing to worry, it will pass.”

“How many bottles of lyrium do you drink everyday?” Fenris asked, raising an eyebrow.

“That's unfair! I run a free clinic. Healing people all day demands a lot of mana.”

He did not say he did not need lyrium anymore. Well, sometimes he found himself running out of mana with no reason, and drinking lyrium would not help. He just waited for it to return and healed again.

“You're making excuses. Face the truth: you're out of control. I found you barely breathing last week.”

“I told you it happens. I always finish waking up anyway. It's because I'm…”

He stopped and looked away.

“What?”

“ ...too deep in the Fade” he answered with a sigh. “I make dreams. The Fade wants me. It's calling me.”

“Let me guess” Varric said. “It sings too.”

An exhausted sigh escaped his mouth and he scratched his head with a lost look.

“The Fade does not sing. Lyrium does. And it keeps my mind in reality by showing the path that links the two worlds. It gives me more control, when I'm not obsessed with it.”

“That you think” Fenris replied with a scornful huff. “You know nothing about what you're doing, what's happening.”

“Let me tell you one thing, Blondie. The addiction of lyrium is most of the time followed by paranoia and dementia. And it never gets better with time. And since you're a mage, your mana is not going to like this either. Whatever you do, you know drinking lyrium is not a solution.”

“You can't tell. No one like me survived from raw lyrium.”

“Shit, you're just so stubborn. Broody, talk to him, I can't stand it.”

“I tried more than once. He never listens.”

“You know I'm still right here? I can hear you.”

“Well, now he's listening” Varric grumbled. “All right, I'll ask everyone I know who could help about this. They're never gonna believe me, he whispered as he walked towards the desk.”

Fenris and Anders knew it was time to leave. But as the elf passed the door and disappeared, the mage turned on his heels.

“Varric? Please don't tell Hawke. He does not need to know.”

“No, of course not. It's not as if he was your friend, protector, ally in battles. Will you risk his life to keep your secret?”

Anders did not answer. But Varric finally nodded and sighed again, mumbling something like 'they'll kill me'.

“I have one condition” the dwarf added with a wince when Anders was about to leave. “Since Broody is the only one who has the slightest idea of what to do - and, subsequently, who actually _can_ do it, bless lyrium tattoos - you will stick with him.”

“What? Please, I don't have much time left, but I wish to live a little bit longer. And I like my heart where it is right now, you know.”

“Hush, mage” Fenris said, appearing by his side.

“Maker, don't sneak on people like that, you bastard!”

“Fenris?” Varric asked with a heavy look.

“Don't ask him to do that!” Anders shouted. “He thinks he's in debt with me since the Deep Roads, it is not fair. And anyway, I don't need him. I don't want him. He annoys me as much as I annoy him. This can't be a solution.”

Varric burst into laughter.

“I don't know if you're stupid, Blondie, but you really are stubborn and blind!”

“I will watch over the abomination” Fenris said before pulling Anders to get out of here, hoping the dwarf's words did not mean what he thought it meant – and that the abomination did not understand them this way either.

Once out, Anders stopped and closed his eyes before breathing in the fresh air and Fenris caught himself smiling at the sight. He could admit it now: if Anders had not been an abomination, a mage who wished a revolution, he would certainly have a crush on him. He was a handsome man, after all – and was well aware of it, obviously. He remembered that Wicked Grace night a while ago when Anders wanted to take back the coin he had lost. Continuing the game meant taking off clothes. He had taken off his coat. And lost again. He had taken off a boot. And lost again. The other boot. And then it was over. No more game. Fenris had been disappointed – a thing the Dwarf had, of course, noticed. But then he realized it was because of the scars on his back he did not want to show, at all costs. The man had shared a lot of secrets with Fenris.

“We'll prepare a room for you at my mansion.”

Anders opened his eyes and blinked. Then an embarrassed smile crossed his face briefly.

“Fenris, that's nice, but I don't think Varric meant 'move in with him'. Just... if I go on a mission with Hawke – if he still wants me, that is – please don't refuse to come just because you hate me. Think of the others. It is them you're protecting... from me.”

“Mage, I came to think more and more that you should just shut the hell up.”

His bitterness was the only way to express the stirring in his heart, for he did not want to feel it any longer. Why did he _want_ the mage to stay with him?

“It occurs to me I did not totally wipe my debt. I'll prepare a room and you'll stop talking. And don't think you're moving in, I'm just not going to spend another night on a chair for _you_. There are a lot of empty rooms and you can borrow one until we find another suitable solution.”

“Empty? Are you sure the mushrooms and skeletons want a roommate?”

“You can sleep on a chair in the kitchen if you prefer, for what I care.”

“I feel so welcome” Anders said with a smirk. “Well it's comforting to know if I get sick because of mushrooms, there will be a compassionate hand to squish my heart.”

“I said to shut up, did I not?” the elf replied harshly.

“You did, but since it seems I never listen, I might have not heard.”

Fenris grumbled but his lips, however, curled up a bit and he cleared his throat to hide his bemusement. He stepped forward and got closer to Anders, who remained speechless at the sudden proximity.

“Is this what it takes to hush you?” the elf asked with a surprising big smile. “Don't you have anything to say, mage?”

Anders opened his mouth to answer but it was suddenly ravished in an angry kiss. The apostate froze but it was already over. It had lasted less than two seconds and he found himself totally confused. He suspected that was exactly what the elf wanted when he saw the amusement in his emerald eyes. But suddenly, he was all serious and stepped backwards.

“Stop thinking, mage. You are safe with me.”

Anders widened his eyes. Fenris' tone was so soft and gentle he could almost think he had dreamed these words. But he was looking at the warrior and trusted him again, so he just nodded silently.

“I know, Fenris. I just… It is no good to me to leave the clinic.”

Fenris stepped back again and frowned.

“Because in your clinic there's no lyrium-branded unnerving elf and there are plenty of bottles of lyrium?”

“You could say that.”

Anders cleared his throat and looked away. Fenris knew there was something more he did not want to say and the warrior respected his privacy, so he just shrugged and left the mage. However, he found himself sticking around the clinic an hour later, watching over the abomination, as Varric asked. Would he go to the Blooming Rose or Hawke's estate? The sun disappeared early from the street of Darktown and the night fell in a minute, drowning the clinic and its surrounding in darkness. Fenris stared at Anders who extinguished the light on his doorstep before returning to his desk, leaving the door half open. How careless! But somehow, Fenris understood the mage did not want to be locked in somewhere since what he lived. He took a few silent steps towards the entrance and stayed again, watching the man writing his damned manifesto, analyzing the back that was presented to him, the ponytail, the feathered pauldron, the skinny silhouette. He waited a long time, wondering if the mage ever considered sleeping from time to time. Finally, he saw the mage taking his head in his hands and a light sob escaped his mouth. Immediately, his legs moved closer but he stopped himself halfway, hesitating. The mage did not wish his presence, obviously. He was about to turn on his heels when the mage's voice filled the room.

“I don't need a bottle of lyrium, you should leave.”

“Don't you need a friend?” Fenris aksed, trying to hide his concern.

Anders burst into laughter and shook his head before standing up and face the elf.

“A friend? You've never been a friend to me. Until I almost died for you and you cared about your supposed debt.”

“What is it about, mage? I thought we were past through this by now.”

“Really? Did you change your mind about the plight of mages?”

“Mage…”

“Andraste's tits, I'm a fool, am I not?”

Fenris raised an eyebrow, trying not to respond, though he had an answer already.

“Don't say anything!” Anders threatened, pacing near the desk. “I… Maker, I was just so blind!  
Have you been manipulating me? Cauz you damn succeeded, you bastard!”

“What are we talking about?”

“Touches. Kisses. Strokes.”

Fenris blushed discreetly and rolled his eyes, trying to hide his embarrassment. He was not familiar with such talks.

“Then it's only about the debt, about what happened in the Deep Roads, is it not? You make me believe you care, and you make me love the way you... but still you're ready to shove me in a cell at the Gallows at any moment!” he added with more anger. “Both aren't possible : that you care and that you want to turn me in. Choose now and stick on it, so I might know whether to remain far from you or…”

“Or what, mage?”

The mage sighed and covered his eyes with slender fingers, breathing deeply. Fenris entered the room, closed the door and reached the healer.

“'There's no one I would not kill to see mages free.' If I remember well.”

Anders dropped his hand and looked at Fenris, brow furrowed.

“Would you kill me?” the elf asked, tilting his head. “And Hawke?”

“Anyone” Anders whispered.

Because of purpose. Fenris understood that. Purpose always seemed bigger than anything else until fulfilled.

“Look in the mirror before you speak, abomination.”

Fenris grasped Anders' collar and pulled him for a kiss. He meant it to be meaningful but harmless. Just another kiss to express what he could not say. But when his lips met Anders', he  knew there was far more than just words expressed through this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU KNOW WHAT'S COMING! Don't you?  
> So that you know, the next scene is smut. And it's not written yet, meaning you'll have to WAIT. héhéhéhéhé. BWAHAHAHAHAHA. Le rire sadique de la pure cruauté.  
> I'll ask your opinion : do you prefer rough sex or fluffy smut? Please tell me, it's REALLY interesting to know. Though I can't promise I'll follow your desires. I'm not a... bisounours. How is it in english? Care Bear! C'est nul comme nom. Pour une fois que je préfère le français.  
> BREF, here we are, things are evolving... I guess. This story is terribly slow, don't you think?
> 
> I ate cookies today.  
> It was great.  
> See ya!


	12. Please, be strong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had a hard time in my life. So I realize it may... taint the story? I mean, it's like humor was walking away and made a rude gesture at me saying "fuck you" and I am like "Maker, I can't write funny things anymore" and everything is so overdramatic it's like we're in a corean drama where everyone is crying under the rain and whining about lost long love and... Well, sorry about that. Prologue is humorous and here we are, chapter eleven, full of 'oh maker, I'm doomed and cursed and my fate is horrible and we're all gonna die, killed by our own sorrow, drowned by tears". It seems even Isabela or Varric can't be fun anymore! I may stop writing this for a week or two, just enough time to er... retrieve what has been lost? ^^  
> BREF. I'd understand if if you'd dislike this and I promise, I'll try to make the next chapters better. Really. I'll work hard on it!

Maybe it was lust. Desire. Hunger for a warm body pressed against his. Maybe it was anger, or need. Or want. Maybe it was more, always more than what they thought and what they sought.

They tasted each other with a new passion, something far and foreign. They were strangers in Kirkwall, strangers to each others because of the past they refused or could not share with each others. But still, Fenris felt like he knew already the mage's body. Each touch, each stroke, was pleasantly familiar. The stubble on his cheeks, the softness of his hair, the scent of his skin, the touch of lips. All this was all too familiar, and all too good for him to make it stop before too late. They might regret this later. For now, they just both knew they needed this deeply, as Anders began to unstrap the elf's armor from his arms and chest. He liked how Fenris tasted, he liked how smooth his skin was, and his tongue licked each piece of bare skin he could find, until the elf shifted with an annoyed snarl, taking his lips between his teeth, holding his head firmly to prevent him from leaving his mouth again.

Justice remained silent. Even the spirit could see how much Anders was lost inside and needed this, even with someone he was supposed to hate. His enemy. Sometimes feelings were just that strong so that all that remained was understanding.

“Mage, do you need help?” Fenris asked with a smirk as Anders tried in vain to unfasten the last buckle.

Anders made a face and leaned forward to taste the elf's tongue again, already knowing it would shut him up. Immediately, Fenris deepened the kiss and violently pulled Anders until he almost crashed against his desk, in order to lean against him as much as he could. He felt the mage shiver as their skin brushed through the clothes. The need to remove them was urgent now. Fenris' fingers caught Anders' harshly and shoved them away, so he could reach the buckles himself. Within seconds, the armor plate fell to the floor.

“Show off.” Anders mumbled as the same clever fingers that helped him were removing his coat now.

Again, Fenris bit Anders' lower lip, a little harder but not enough to draw blood. He hastily pulled the coat apart and the apostate struggled to drag his arms out of the sleeves. Finally, the fabric hit the floor and the mage's lips stretched into a small smile.

“I have the feeling we've been here before.”

Fenris grumbled and forced his way into the mage's mouth. He didn't think he would ever stop kissing him. His lips were soft and tender, his tongue experienced as it stroked his, his teeth were teasing just the right way and Fenris moaned: he couldn't stand it anymore.

His nails dug into Anders' chest, almost ripping his shirt off as his fingers made their way here and there, stroking, scratching, begging for more. The mage's lips left his to wander on his neck and he almost protested again, until a tongue reached his left ear and he lost himself in the sensation.

“Always wondered if they were sensitive” the mage whispered as he sucked a lobe, his teeth teasing again.

The elf grumbled again, but it sounded more like a moan as he tried to melt into Anders, leaning against him and offering more of his body.

“Hey, don't crush me!”

But Anders' hands found their way to his back in some kind of embrace and easily unfastened the claps of the tunic until Fenris torso was bare in all its beautifully glowing way.

“Why are they glowing?” Anders asked as his hand tickled the sensitive markings.

The activated lyrium made something to Anders' mind. And the light pain that awakened in Fenris' body had him shiver. Yes, it hurt. But it made his skin so sensitive it was worth it. So he welcomed the pain and called the Fade even louder.

“Because.” was the elf's answer as he chased Anders' mouth again.

That was it. It was over. The little control they had. The gentleness they could sometimes share. It was broken for senseless deep unstoppable urgency. By now, it was no longer a mistake. It was just a choice.

Anders nodded in approval when Fenris unlaced his pants, his hips bucking forwards as fingers brushed his groin. He moaned against the elf's mouth and Fenris caught the opportunity in biting his lower lip again. He liked it, feeling the tender mouth moulding his teeth, until the skin broke slowly, painfully, and he could taste iron on his tongue. Anders didn't complain, one hand untangling the elf's hair, the other stroking his back until it reached the buttocks. Fenris shuddered and left the mage's mouth, panting, as he leaned forward to bite the neck.

“Stop biting, wolf!”

'Better than 'dog'' Fenris thought as he remembered the day he'd been called a wild dog by the same person he was now holding in his arms. The memory made him manhandle the man again as he pulled him violently and shoved him against the back door, and then on the bed after shutting it close with a feet. He climbed on the mattress too and bit Anders' neck again, just to make him understand who was leading the game. The moan that escaped the apostate's mouth made him shiver and he ran down a path of kisses along the mage's torso until he reached the loose pants that he pulled off hastily, tossing them around the room. Anders chuckled a little, but his laugh caught in his throat when he felt Fenris' erection against his as the elf crawled upon him again. The warrior let his nails wander on Anders' skin, scratching hard, leaving red trails between the faded scars here and there. The mage welcomed the burnt and tried to reach Fenris' neck to pull him for a kiss but the elf grabbed his wrists and shook his head, a teasing smirk on his lips, as he moved slowly his hips on Anders'. The mage's eyes closed and he arched his back a bit, trying to escape Fenris' firm grasp. But the elf was strong, all about muscles, and Anders was weak. The warrior tickled the mage's ribs in a light brush of his fingers, wondering why they could be seen so easily, as if they were about to break through the skin.

“Stop it now!” Anders cried as his hips tried to move faster, looking for more contact, more pressure, just release. “Straight to the point, remember?”

“Fair enough.”

They were not making love, it was useless to make it last more than necessary. Fenris stood up and kicked off his leggings, while Anders did the same with his smalls. He climbed off the bed to reach some vial on a shelf and Fenris moaned in anticipation. He stared at Anders' silhouette as the mage was standing straight, naked, before him. Somehow, he wanted to be in him, to make him shiver and moan and beg for release, but he knew, as he did with Hawke, that it was far too intimate for him. He was not going to make love to him. It was weird to think it that way, but it was like he would share something more if he allowed himself to claim the mage's body and make him his. His own body had never truly been his anyway, he was used to give and not to possess.

As the mage turned on his heels to reach the bed again, Fenris could all but look at what was going to be forced in him and his heart beat faster at the sight of it, so proudly exposed, so tempting. His feet moved before he could think and his body almost crashed against Anders' as he claimed the apostate's mouth, one hand on his back to hold him tightly, very tightly. Anders' thighs bucked against the bedside table and an unlit candle fell, its candlestick shattering when it hit the floor. They stopped for a second, scared that the lit ones fell too. But as Anders shifted just a little to look at the mess and jumped when he stepped on a piece of glass, cutting his heel, their naked bodies brushed and they really didn't give a damn if the room was on fire.

Fenris pushed Anders on the bed again, stepping too on the glass scattered on the floor. His feet had always been sensitive, and he was used to cuts and wounds, walking bare feet all day. He didn't mind. Though he welcomed Anders' healing magic as soon as he felt the wave hitting him, the palms resting on his chest radiating with familiar warmth. He shoved them for good measure.

“You never learn!” he barked, scratching the chest again, in a pure attempt of revenge, drawing very little blood.

He hated the deep moan that escaped his mouth as Anders offered him a teasing smirk before casting another spell. He could feel it running through his markings, awakening every particle of his skin until it reached a point of sensitiveness he could not even think possible, invading his body, heating it, until he was left panting, sweating, and hoping for a quick release. He captured the mage's hand and guided him lower, so his fingers would tease his entrance.

“You said straight to the point, didn't you? Then fucking do it!”

Anders' brows furrowed but he smirked quickly, his eyes lowering so he could stare at the body above him. Maker. There were no words to express what it awoke in him.

“Want to have a hint of how experienced I am?”

Fenris rolled his eyes and leaned down, biting the mage's lip again, licking the blood with a satisfied snarl as the mage jumped at the sudden pain. It shouldn't be that good.

“Why… Why do you do that?” the mage stammered between two heavy breaths, his lip still caught in hungry teeth.

Fenris smiled and pulled back so the mage could uncork the bottle, sitting on Anders in a very sinful way.

“Because I can.” he answered, moving his hips again, making the apostate hiss and freeze.

A few seconds later, a slender slick finger was pushed in him and he panted heavily, turning his head so he would not look at amber eyes. No, they were _not_ making love. Maker, he liked those long fingers coated with potion that smelled so much like the healer beneath him. Medicinal herbs that seemed to emphasize his pleasure. Or maybe it was just the way things were. The beautiful mage preparing him, the lit markings, the remains of the healing spell. Everything melted in him so he was just nothing more than a body that sought only pleasure.

He whimpered when a second finger joined the first, and they stretched him so beautifully the elf could not doubt Anders' skills on the matter. He reached this point, where everything became fuzzy, and his mind foggy, his hips moving without his consent, asking for more, for 'deeper' and 'faster'. Finally, he shoved Anders' hand away, straightened up a bit and grabbed the vial, coating Anders' cock with the potion. The mage immediately responded to Fenris' touch and the elf smiled as he was not the only one who lost control. No, none of them had any control over the other now. He teased a bit, looking at Anders' features as the mage gasped, shutting his eyes closed and moving to meet the strokes. Fenris immediately stopped when he realized he was staring too much.

Fenris seemed to raise above Anders and the mage shuddered in anticipation, looking at the glowing markings on sweaty dark skin. If only he could lick them a little more. But all thoughts vanished when the elf lowered his body and Anders was swallowed entirely by a deep, wet, warm and tight hole. Fenris did not wait too long before he moved. He installed a rhythm, a quick pace that had them both breathing heavily, all sweat and gasps and moans. Fenris moved fast, slapping against Anders' body, hearing the sound of their flesh hitting, the noise of their short breaths filling the room. Anders tried to grab the elf's hips but again, Fenris shoved him away and he tangled his fingers in the sheets instead, his toes curling, his chest raising quickly at every short breath.

It was good, it was almost relief, it was melancholia and laughter, and groans and sobs and hidden tears, showed loathing. It was insults, and it was eyes staring at lips that said words he hated. It was bickering, deep bitterness, it was want, need to forgive, to understand, to possess. It was desire and reluctance, it was hands shoving fingers away but dreams of palms stroking heated skin. For too long now it had been this way for both of them. Wanting and denying. They were both still denying, avoiding each other's gaze, thinking so loud 'I hate you' while their bodies were moving together. Hate was easy. Really easy. Easier. But not real enough. This was real.

Anders straightened up and his arm wrapped Fenris' hips, pulling him harshly in a difficult rotation until he was on top. The elf began to protest but as the mage began to move above him, the words died in his throat. The healer had found the angle, the pace, everything that could make Fenris forget about everything. With Hawke, he had remembered. With Anders, he just forgot. He liked it a lot, as he was thinking about nothing else but this wave of pleasure that crushed him at every move, so he let Anders thrust in him, trusting his experience to guide him to his climax. Anders was as rough as he wanted him to be, grasping Fenris thigh firmly and raising it so he could plunge deeper and deeper into him, until there was no space left between them, and pulling back to push in again, and again, and again, and faster. Bruises would be seen on the next day.

Anders knew how to please his partners. It'd only taken a few minutes for him to understand what Fenris wanted and how he wanted it. It tasted like the desire of freedom somehow. As if he wanted Anders to break the invisible chains that held him back there, in Kirkwall, as an escaped slave from Tevinter who killed and killed and killed. No past and no future.

The feeling of their sweaty skin brushing, the friction of their tangled bodies, the heat, the noise of their moans, the markings still activated. It washed over them quickly, until they found themselves on the edge, wanting, begging for more, as their climax felt close, so damn close. Their groans grew louder and louder, muscles tensed in whole body, almost aching, craving for release and they both kept up the pace, the atmosphere heavy around them. The scent, the heat, the sound, the feeling. Still it wasn't enough, they needed more, always more, even though they were overwhelmed. Anders let a hand wander on Fenris' stomach until it reached his neglected cock. The warrior bucked violently at the touch and almost broke their rhythm but Anders had anticipated this reaction and went on, steadying the pace with hand and body. He stared at Fenris' face, at the white hair, the lyrium scars, the muscles, the dark skin. He sighed deeply and when the elf opened his eyes to seek what to draw this out, he just leaned forward to lick the lyrium on his neck. Fenris came explosively. He arched his back, moaned deeply in Anders' ear. The apostate smiled at the growling voice that made him shudder, and the sudden tensed body of the warrior around him had him reach his own climax quickly.

He gave a last few thrusts and then stilled, staring at the elf's face. Lots of thoughts crossed his mind and he sighed again. Fenris, eyes closed, waited for his own breath to return, and his heartbeat to slow down. He felt Anders shift above him and he was suddenly empty, the warmth of the other body leaving him, his sweaty skin aware of the draught that crossed the room. It was very cold suddenly, and Fenris wondered how the mage could not even have a hearth to heat the room in winter. He opened his eyes, staring at Anders who was cleaning himself above a basin of water. He soon joined him and they looked at each other for a few seconds, until they knew they had reached some kind of understanding. They wouldn't speak about it. They didn't need to repeat it either. The elf would dress and leave and it was good this way.

Touches. Kisses. Strokes. It had been pleasant, certainly. For both of them, as if there was someone near to care. But it had to end now. 'Then it's only about your debt is it not?' It had to be. It was the way it was supposed to be.

“Sleep well, mage.” Fenris said before he left.

Anders nodded, not looking at him. Fenris wasn't able to give more. What Anders had waited from him was utopia and he had known it even before he let all this go too far. His own mistake, his own choice. So he had let this be rough and senseless, even though he would have liked to watch at the green eyes, to whisper soft words, and kiss gently, so gently. Anders didn't need more hatred, just like Hawke broke up with him because he didn't need more sorrow.

Maker they were doomed. All of them. They needed to share something no one wanted. Fenris expressed his hatred, Anders needed to share his burden, and Hawke wanted laughter and passion. Anders could not handle Fenris' hatred, Hawke couldn't suffer Anders' sadness, Isabela couldn't offer Hawke the unconditional love he sought. Endless circle.

Something stirred in him and he nodded in acknowledgment, as he felt Justice' thoughts invading his. Yes. All he needed was a purpose. And gratefully, he had one. One worth it.

 

 

Something changed again. As they had hated each other, respected each other, barely courted each other, now they were almost ignoring each other. Only Varric seemed to have noticed it. Maybe because he thought less than a few days ago that the two of them could get along, and more. The elf kept his promise, though. He watched silently over the mage, careful not to make him angry, convincing Hawke to solve the Bone Pit problem quickly, accompanying the healer there to make sure he would not lose control again. But he did.

“I notice you hardly ever comment on mages and templars and such.” Fenris said as he looked at the dwarf while Hawke and Anders were chatting about some staff found in a crate, Merrill casting spells to test its performance.

Anders wanted to keep it and Hawke said it was too dangerous since it seemed deeply connected to the Fade. Fenris gave them several sidelong looks, hoping Hawke would hear his telepathic 'don't make him angry now!' scream. But he didn't.

“It's a lot of humans in skirts. I get them mixed up.” Varric answered with a shrug.

Anders didn't wear skirts, thank the Maker. Fenris stared at the mage's silhouette and blushed, focusing his attention on Varric again.

“I highly doubt that. The subject comes up all the time.”

Varric rolled his eyes and nodded.

“Tell me about it.”

Anders had given up and was now glowering at Hawke as they joined their friends. He looked away when he noticed Fenris staring at him.

“And no opinion? One way or the other?” Fenris asked.

He was much interested in the dwarf's opinion. He and the apostate were close, though he had fought many abominations and blood mages by Hawke's side, too. After so many years hearing Meredith and Orsino bickering, Anders and Fenris bickering, he must have chosen a side.

“Opinions are like testicles. You kick them hard enough, doesn't matter how many you got.”

Hawke burst into laughter and Fenris raised both his eyebrows.

“That's... something.”

But Anders didn't laugh. It seemed he could not even smile anymore. His face was blank and he stared at Varric. It was slow, very slow, the way blue cracks appeared on his whole body.

“Blondie!”

But Anders was already lost.

“ **It's people like you, dwarf, who make it so hard! Don't you understand? It's people like you, who shut their eyes blind and pretend they don't have an opinion, or worse, who really don't give a shit about mages being oppressed, imprisoned, beaten, raped, killed and they turn to blood magic to gain this freedom they crave for, or even to save their dignity. No it's no** **t** **their fault they seek out a demon's help! They need help because of templars and...** ”

“Enough!”

Hawke grabbed Anders' staff that had been raised threateningly towards Varric.

“Anders, please try to hold back Justice.”

Varric looked away, Fenris coughed discreetly, and Anders chuckled in a terrific way.

“ **I am Anders, and Justice is me. His purpose is mine now**.”

Fenris didn't know what to do. But he didn't have to do anything. As Anders looked away from Varric, his gaze met Fenris' and it was all over in a second. That easily. The anger on Anders' face vanished with the blue light and the deep pain that was easily seen on his features made the elf's heart bleed in his chest.

“I'm… sorry. I need to be alone”.

Hawke was about to say something but Varric caught his arm firmly and held him back, as the apostate left the party with a heavy sigh. And Fenris thought at this moment that the mage never looked so strong.

“Poor Anders.”  Merrill commented with a sad look, unable to  truly understand the situation.

“You pity him? He's dangerous to himself and everyone around him.”

But his tone lacked of conviction. He'd seen it in amber eyes. The deep sorrow that would have taken everything away. He remembered it all now: 'Did you ever think about killing yourself?' and 'I've been fortunate'. The mage had endured. He was stronger than expected.

“I think he's broken the thing he wanted to save.”

It was well summed up and maybe the witch understood things that easily. Except dirty jokes. Fenris always wondered how she could babble so much, and then say things so deeply true that would strike one's soul in just a few words. He looked down, bitterness worming its way in his voice against his will.

“You pity him because he's you.”

“Breaking the things you love most isn't restricted to mages, Fenris.”

Oh Maker, his heart wouldn't stop bleeding after that.

“Sadly true.”  he simply answered as he left the party too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO. Let's talk about the sex scene that I promised and FINALLY WROTE! (After 60 pages, you were waiting for it, weren't you? Like 'If she doesn't write smut in the next chapter I quit reading!')  
> it's not really rough sex, because I don't think it needs to be violent between them, but it is not fluffy either. So yeah, none of you will be happy (Maker I managed to disapppoint all of you when I could have made a half really happy!) but there will be more smut and I hope it'll be better (can't be worse though ;) ). Be kind, I really never write smut - no NEVER - and I spent so much time thinking about it, about how I could make it work and how to express in words everything that crossed my mind (because writing smut in French is hard but in english it's SUPER HARD - well, for me at least and sorry about mistakes by the way) and make it be 'more than sex' without beeing... cheesy, as would say one of my lovely readers. In the end I had the worst headache ever, not kidding. I really struggle with smut, but it's for you, because I know most of you like a little smut from time to time so PLEASE, please, please, don't be too harsh on judging this and pray so I can improve for next time!  
> Feel free to comment, with A LOT OF tact, though, and thank you for following this story until here. You've been a great support for me and you're all so kind and lovely and I love you and kisses and hugs and cookies for everyone. Yeaaaah.


	13. Hate me, please

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fenris - FINALLY - admits he may have a little crush. Cauz he has, right?
> 
> You know, when I play, there's THIS moment in the game where I can't open a chest. And it happens to you too, right - I mean, who plays a rogue? So Varric or Isabela or even Sebastian, they propose their help with this 'show off' tone and I'm like 'fine, do it if you're so clever'. And they CAN'T! "I wish I could sweetheart, but I can't" SERIOUSLY? You just proposed to do it, then fucking do it! It makes me want to punch them (And I'm glad we can punch Isabela later in the game!)

“Because Tal-Vashoths on the Wounded Coast were just so much more important than a fucking _dragon_!”

But Anders' tone lacked of bitterness as he reproached Hawke for the thousandth time not to have paid attention to the workers' complaints about a high-dragon in the Bone Pit.

“Oh, come on, Anders, you know we know you know you love this!”

Anders frowned but Fenris did notice the light curl of his lips. They were all covered in blood, and half of their clothes was burnt, Hawke had lost almost his entire beard and Varric a great part of his chest hair. Only Merrill seemed to be just fine, gracefully dancing around on her tiptoes, avoiding flaming sticks and crafts, searching… what was she looking for down there? Flowers?

“Here, Hawke, I found a chest!”

Hawke's eyes widened and Fenris could almost hear him screaming in his head 'Gold? Where? Where?' as his eyes searched for Merrill and he almost ran towards her, all wounds forgot in a second.

“I really hate the Bone Pit.” Anders stated. “Why did I agree to come? You know I hate everything narrow, and smelly, and humid and everything that contains a high-dragon and why did I want to fight this dragon anyway?”

Fenris glowered at Anders who was staring at his scruffy boots. At least the fire had damaged his pauldron and the elf could all but smile as he imagined all those ridiculous feathers finally burning and disappear.

“Stop complaining. I'm going to regret 'plight of mages speeches' if this goes on.”

“Come on, Broody, you don't really mean it.” Varric said, examining Bianca to be sure she didn't meet the same fate as his chest hair.

“Dammit, it's locked!” Hawke cursed not far and Varric rolled his eyes, bombed his chest and walked to him like he was the King of Orzammar… or just a famous author and rich dwarf who happened to have discovered an ancient Thaig with a lot of gold there and a mysterious new kind of lyrium the abomination might want to try after his I-take-raw-lyrium-doesn't-matter-if-it-kills-me thing.

“You know, I might be able to give you a hand with that”

And… he wasn't. Even Fenris chuckled as he read the embarrassment on the dwarf's features. Hawke looked daggers at him and Merrill patted the warrior with a sad expression, trying to show compassion.

“I hate you.” Hawke said. “Why give me hope like this? Do you offer a candy to a child before slapping him right into the face?”

“You're no child, Hawke!” Fenris exclaimed but he walked to the chest, lit up his brands and his hand phased through the wood to grab the lock.

Fenris opened the chest and Hawke's eyes shimmered, Varric grumbled, Anders moaned as the power of the lyrium hit him and Merrill… Merrill was just being Merrill.

“I knew it would make pickpocket and stealing easier. Thief style, I guess.” the dwarf commented, obviously jealous.

Fenris' blue hand reached what was in the chest and he handed Hawke… a pair of torn trousers.

“Dammit, who leaves this behind every fucking time there's a well-locked chest and the promise of gold, just to disappoint me?”

“People who got a good fuck in narrow dark spaces and hid the proves of their… enjoyment… in the chests they emptied of the gold they keep for STD's treatments.”

“Isabela, leave this body” Varric said, staring at Anders with wide eyes. “So Blondie's back? Can I make another joke on the best way to kill a templar?”

“Only if it involves skirts.” Anders replied, a little smile on his lips.

“Allegedly, skirts are practical when the Knight-Commandeur...”

“No!” Fenris cried, raising a hand to prevent any dirty joke to gain his sensitive ears. “What I enjoy when Isabela is not here is actually Isabela not being here. Maybe we could just get out of this place?”

“Sounds great!” Anders approved with a nod.

“We'd need healing, though, Blondie. We can't return in this state.”

As if to prove his point, he gestured towards his burnt chest, Hawke's face, Fenris' feet and Anders' own silhouette, dark, dusty, bloody.

“I… don't think it's necessary.” Anders simply responded. “You've handled worse before, Varric. You're a big dwarf! Come on.”

“Seriously, Blondie, it's not about me. Did you see Fenris' feet? No way he's going to make the return journey without...”

“No one asked for your opinion, dwarf.” Fenris said, crossing his arms.

He could walk… for now.

“Yeah, you don't want magic to be used upon you, but do I need to remind you our bags are now ashes on the ground? I think overcooked potions won't do you any good, right? Only Anders' stuff survived and he only brings lyrium potions since he's a healer – and since he almost died only because he had not brought enough lyrium, too – and then he can fix things with a wiggle of his fingers, which I suggest he does, right now, on your feet… and on my poor chest that will need weeks to recover. Took years to grow those beautiful chest hair! So Blondie, do me this favor.”

“I can't” was all the mage answered.

Before the looks it gave him, he sighed and shrugged and mumbled he had not enough mana right now to cast any healing spell.

“Didn't I just say you still had your lyrium potions?”

First, Fenris thought the mage had finally made a decision about his… addiction, or whatever he would call it, but the mage just happened to shake is head.

“I don't. I drank them all just a few minutes ago. And… my mana is still low. It… happens sometimes.”

Fenris didn't need to look at Hawke's face to know what expression crossed his features.

“So, you're saying that beyond the fact that you let your spirit take control over you and threaten your friends, you also have mana imbalance? And don't you think you're a liability? You may be a great healer, Anders, but you're not worth the risk.”

Anders shivered when he heard the word 'worth' and Fenris immediately took a step forward.

“I disagree. The mage has proven himself earlier. He's strong enough for now. As for mana imbalance, running out of mana could happen to any mage. You should be glad he doesn't use blood to be able to cast more spells!”

Merrill whimpered at the words but dared no comment as Fenris kept defending the mage.

“If you're not able to handle a bit of a burn, I suggest you stop looking for dragons with your beard as only shield because the way it burnt was quite the show.”

Varric huffed and shifted, eyebrow raised.

“Did you… make a joke? Or at least try? Yeah, try is the word. Broody, don't get upset, but you haven't practiced enough to make jokes with this kind of heavy atmosphere.”

“I might be able to heal you, Fenris, if you really need it. I just need a connection to the Fade, and the lyrium under your skin can give it to me. Though it would work only for you. Sorry about the chest hair, Varric.”

The dwarf sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Doesn't matter, Blondie. Just heal the elf so we can get out of here.”

“It's raw lyrium, isn't it?”

Fenris coughed a little, Varric shook his head and Anders jumped as he stared at Merrill. Hawke just froze and his eyes turned slowly to look at the blood mage, waiting for an explanation.

“You touched raw lyrium in the Deep Roads, right?” she asked, tilting her head, her innocent voice echoing in the cave.

The witch did have a good sense of deduction, Fenris had to admit it. Anders shrugged, waved at Fenris and showed him a rock so he would sit.

“I'll heal that.” he just murmured, trying not to look into the elf's eyes.

But Fenris was staring and their gazes met. The elf obeyed, sitting on the rock, his lyrium brands still activated. Slender fingers raised in the air and Fenris looked at the hand presented to him. It had been the other way around for months now, Fenris trying to help the mage. Because he had a debt. Because the healer had always taken care of him, of his wounds and, somehow, of his feelings. He had helped him chasing Danarius and claiming the mansion as his, he had helped him chasing Hadriana even though he wanted to be elsewhere, with a boy he helped making Tranquil – and forgave them for this decision – he had not hold Fenris' betrayal in the Fade against him, telling him it was almost normal he accepted the demons' offer because the Fade just doesn't seem real, he had killed slavers too, with a satisfied nod. And sacrificed his life for him.

“Are you going to make me wait forever?” the man asked, embarrassed, his hand still in the air.

Fenris looked away and his fingers reached Anders' as he called the Fade deeply. The mage closed his eyes for a second and his other hand lowered to stand above Fenris' feet, a blue glimmer already spreading, enlightening the cave. When his eyelids fluttered open, he stared at Fenris and the elf's fingers unconsciously tightened their grip on the mage's hand. Only twenty seconds later, Fenris' feet were healed, pain vanished and skin renewed. Anders' hand tried to draw away but Fenris' grip didn't let go.

“Mage...”

Anders looked away but stayed still, waiting.

“What happened...”

“We shouldn't speak about it.”

This time, Anders' hand left Fenris' and the healer stood up.

“You're upset I left, aren't you?”

Anders gave a sidelong look to Hawke and frowned. Their friends were trying to find some other treasures than torn trousers, but it seemed all they got was an old scarf.

“I expected nothing else from you, Fenris.”

“Though you hoped something else.”

“Of course I did. But we've made it clear that it leads us nowhere. Let's stop pretending anything happened. Let's go back to our dear shared hatred and everything will be just fine.”

“Hatred? You hate me?”

“Sometimes, I really do.” Anders said before leaving, giving a sad look to his left pauldron that lost dozens of feathers in the fight.

Would he pluck sparrows to repair that? Fenris almost chuckle. That was never going to happen. The mage would endanger himself even to save a bird.

“Hate me as much as you want, mage.” Fenris whispered. “I will never hate you again.”

Anders' shoulder shivered and Fenris thought he had heard but he kept walking, not looking back.

 

 

Hawke scratched his almost beard, Varric scratched his almost chest hair, Isabela scratched her head and Merrill was… smiling. Anders coughed lightly and looked away while Fenris tried to drown his despair in his glass of wine. Aveline was trying not to… who knew? Eyes closed, jaw tensed, she was breathing deeply. Sebastian was praying, and Anders imperceptibly shifted on his chair, moving away.

“Daisy… I think you should...”

“Yeah” Isabela approved, nodding exaggeratedly, eyes widened.

“I shall leave you.” Aveline said before rising to her feet and flee the room.

“Just leave the dirty jokes to others, Daisy” Varric finished with a deep sigh, shaking his head.

“Why?” the blood mage asked, eyebrows raised. “I...”

“No” Fenris interrupted. “Just no, witch. For once, keep your mouth shut.”

“I agree” Anders said, and Isabela kept nodding.

It was slow, the way smiles appeared on every single faces, before every one chuckled. Then they burst out into laughter, the walls shaking, the table hit by empty glasses and hands, or even Hawke's face, as his forehead violently came to rest on the wood, his shoulder still trembling. They were all sitting in the Hanged Man, wounds finally healed. Though, Varric was still mourning his chest hair. Even Isabela had tried the best she could to hold back any joke about it.

Hawke had not said a single word about what he learned in the Bone Pit. He had kept giving Anders sad sidelong looks on the way back. Merrill was embarrassed and had finally understood that what she said was supposed to be a secret Anders had kept all this time. Why, that was something beyond comprehension. There seemed to be no consequences by now. But Fenris had learned that never to be true.

“Let's have another drink!” Varric exclaimed as he stared at all their empty mugs.

Hawke nodded and raised on his feet. They were locked in Varric's room so he decided to fetch the drinks himself.

“I'll need a hand!”

Fenris nodded and stood up as well, leaving the room just behind him, after collecting the coins everyone handed him to pay their ale. The two men waited for Corff to prepare the mugs and Fenris felt Hawke staring.

“What?” he asked, crossing his arms.

“I've seen the way he looks at you. And he told you about the raw lyrium didn't he? And I've seen… the way you look at him.”

Fenris tried to ignore the hurt in Hawke's voice. Seemed the man would never forget the way Fenris left that night. And he left Anders as well after that. He was good at abandoning people. But it seemed people weren't ready to give up on him yet.

“You hated Anders, Fenris. What changed?”

First, Fenris didn't answer and glowered at Hawke. But if there was one person that knew how to listen, it was Hawke. So Fenris spoke.

“There was this young girl among the Fog Warriors. She had, what? twenty years-old? And she was a pain in the ass. She was a prank, stole things, hid them. The kind of girl who pushed you into the lake and laughed hard, mocking at you. She was exasperating. She laughed and spoke too loud, moved fast, broke things, made a mess of everything. I didn't understand why everybody liked her. I didn't. I couldn't suffer her presence. And everytime I told her to just shut the hell up or sod off, she smiled at me and stuck around, saying the dumbest things I'd ever heard.”

“You killed her, right? With the rest of the Fog Warriors?”

“I didn't have to. She got sick. Very sick. And suddenly there was no more jokes and pranks and no more annoying voice mocking at me, no more infuriating girl stealing my gauntlets, daring me to eat a slug.

Fenris paused for a moment, lost in his thoughts. A sigh escaped his mouth. Mugs were ready before them but they stayed still. Hawke was waiting.

“And then I became aware of things I barely noticed before.” Fenris continued. “The way she brought me food and just sat next to me in the evening, silent. Or the way she apologized when she knew she went too far. The way she combed her hair in the morning and winced because of a knot. The way she held back the tears when she got wounded in a fight and said 'I'm okay, I'm a big girl'. The way she just enjoyed life. The way she was. Simple. True. Authentic. Suddenly, everything felt… I don't know, empty. So I mourned her.”

“So there might be a heart behind all the scorn?”

Fenris snarled in disdain and ignored Hawke, staring at the ale in one of the mugs.

“I mourned the mage too. When he reappeared, I started to see everything that was infuriating about him as something I would miss – and that I really missed, somehow. Like this stubble he never takes time to shave.”

“Easy to say for a hair-less elf.”

“The way he plays with his feathers. They keep falling from this ridiculous coat, leaving a trail wherever we go, but he keeps wearing them. How he leans on his staff after a fight, just exhausted but so proud of himself! When he sees a kitten, Maker, those ridiculous faces and this annoying voice. The words he says. And the words he doesn't say. The things he does. The expressions on his features. He thinks he's good at hiding. He's not. I saw sadness even in his brightest smiles. And he keeps playing at cards, the fool. Maybe he likes stripping. How he starves himself and I can't even know why. Deprived of sleep, too. Nightmares, snorts, laughs. Rare laughs. As are mine. Those insane jokes no one finds funny.”

“I find them funny… most of the time.”

“I started to think about who he truly was, before the demon. Helped the hero of Ferelden. Joined the Grey Warden. The way he fought for his freedom, again and again and again. He succeeded where I failed. Maybe I hated him for that and I can't see why it's difficult to admit I just can't hate him anymore.”

“I don't know, you've been like this for years, before he was left in the Deep Roads. I want to know what really changed. He's still a mage. You _still_ hate mages.”

“In Seheron I met a Qunari once and he… understood my hatred towards mages. Though he said something like 'it's easy to get worked up about a nation or a kind or crap like that but you can't hate every single mage. People… it's too much work hating them one by one.' Turns out he was right. I got tired of hating the healer. It was exhausting, because it got harder and harder every day to loathe him when he gave me no real reason to.”

Hawke remained silent and stared at him again. Finally, he smiled and nodded.

“You're finally beginning to be free, Fenris. Next step is to kill Danarius. And you'll be _truly_ free. Anders… Anders will be free only if he kills every last templar in all the Free Marches. And that's never going to happen. He'll never be free. Mages will never be free unless the world changes.”

Fenris didn't answer. He stopped arguing with Hawke about mages a while ago.

“It already has, it seems.” he simply said.

Hawke sighed heavily and nodded. It was true. Even though things seemed to be the same, it appeared that everything was just on the edge and nothing would prevent it from happening.

“You never talked that much.” Hawke commented with a shy smile.

“There's a lot to say about the abomination. Everything about him is infuriating and beautiful, and I love every part of him.”

“Why don't you tell him?”

“Because he and me… is not possible.”

“Why? Because he is a mage?”

“No. Because he is a possessed Grey Warden who wants to change the world and I'm an ex tevinter slave who doesn't want to be a part of this world. It's not about he alone, or me alone. It's about us. 'Us' can't be.”

“You can try, at least.”

“Why? It would leave nothing but broken hearts.”

“And whose heart remains safe while you both keep the secret?”

Both? He wasn't even sure the mage felt like this towards him. How could he? Fenris had never been nice to him, never been worthy of anything beyond hatred. Fenris was about to respond but Isabela appeared by their side.

“What's taking so long? We're thirsty there!”

Hawke and Fenris grabbed the mugs and returned to the room.

“Come on, Blondie! Share some details!”

Anders' face was as red as it could be and Merrill was waving enthusiastically at Isabela, ready to share what just happened while she was away. Fenris didn't need some explanation, as the dwarf, quill in hand, winked at the pirate and continued teasing the mage.

“I've talked to Viveka. She says you're one of her favorite client. Though she'd like better you to work there instead of...”

“Please, just don't!” Anders pleaded, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

Fenris narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms, leaning on the back of his chair. He tried not to make any comment, no to snarl, and not to grab the mage and shove him against the wall to kiss him and claim his ownership on him. He had no right to be jealous, had he?”

“I never thought Jethann was your kind. You like elves?”

Nobody missed the look Varric gave Fenris while saying this and the warrior tensed and frowned.

“You're going to lose more than your chest hair if you dare any other comment, dwarf.” he said.

“Hey, I didn't say anything! But if you think it concerned _you_ , then you might...”

“Oh, he didn't tell you? Fenris and I had a good fuck the other evening. Because I like elves, right? Seems I don't need to go to the Blooming Rose now!”

Fenris chuckled. He knew the mage too well not to guess it was a strategy. If they kept denying it, Varric and Isabela would be insistent. If they played the game – though no one would believe that anyway – it would be over soon.

“I don't think Viveka should hire the mage. I wouldn't _pay_ for...”

“Please stop!” Hawke begged, both his hands on his ears. “What's happening tonight? Did Corff add something to the drinks?”

Anders glanced at Fenris and they both shared a little smile. No matter how hard they would try, hatred would never come back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who noticed the 'Iron Bull reference?' WHO? I thought that it was POSSIBLE that Fenris and Bull might have actually met, so i just stopped thinking and said "Fuck it, I write it!"
> 
> Let's play some sort of a game. Click on the comment button and write down a name or a pseud or whatever. Something about you, like "the psychotic Godzilla" or even "the Weetos lost in a Fiat Panda trunk". Then tell us the craziest thing you've ever done, AND the most disgraceful thing that ever happened to you.  
> Come on, it could be fun!  
> Yeah, I like games. Yeah it's dumb. And I don't care héhé. I like talking with you guys. Don't be afraid, tell us everything!


	14. Bound me, free me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey. If you're trying the NaNo, add me as a buddy. I'm Sky Of Dust (of course!). And let's struggle together!  
> So if you noticed, I'm not as present as I was on AO3. But don't worry, I'll try my best to write my fanfiction anyway.
> 
> I found a slug in my bathroom again. Yes. Again. I said it. Again. Spiders weren't enough. I have slugs too.  
> That's disgusting. The one truth that is certain, even more than "bad templars" and "good spirits", is that slugs are disgusting. Even more when you step on it. With your bare feet. No, it has nothing to do with the story. But I can write whatever I want and you read it, that's funny! Yep, you're still reading. Stop reading now. Begin the chapter! you're wasting time. I don't care. It's not my time. Well, a little bit. Aaaand... you're still reading. What a shame.  
> Okay, enough. Hope you'll enjoy.

“How many have we killed?”

“Too many.” Hawke simply answered, exhausted.

Hawke, for some unknown reason, respected the Qunaris. Even the Tal-Vashoths. He hated killing them, but he hated the Wounded Coast to be unsafe.

“You know what, Hawke? I'm tired of this shit!”

Everyone turned to look at Isabela and she dropped her daggers in a melodramatic gesture. Then she grinned and took her boots off.

“What...”

“Come on, it's sand, water and sun! Let's have a little fun”.

She stripped off slowly, aware of all gazes turned to stare.

“Rivaini, may I say we are covered in blood and surrounded by half a dozen of corpses ? There might be more enemies.”

Isabela shrugged and began to walk towards the sea, her naked hips dancing provocatively as she wore only her smalls now. Merrill sighed deeply in what seemed to be a mix of envy, jealousy and admiration. Hawke was just stunned, though everyone knew he had had the pleasure to see Isabela's body in a more naked state. Varric just shook his head with a faint smile.

“Stop staring, Bianca” Anders teased as his fingers brushed the crossbow in Varric's back.

“She's not staring!” Varric replied.

The dwarf shook his head again, but Bianca joined Isabela's daggers on the sand – though he laid her carefully on his coat. Hawke shrugged and began to remove his bloody armor, then his shirt, and stopped as he saw Fenris and Anders staring.

“Well, that's awkward.” he just commented, but continued to strip.

Finally, only remained Fenris and Anders on the sand, looking at their companions in the water in disbelief.

“How do they...”

“This is...”

They shared a glance and looked away.

“Fine!” Anders said and he unbuckled his coat.

Fenris shivered, though the mage didn't notice. The abomination lost the boots and the pants and began to walk towards the water, in smalls and shirt. But Fenris grabbed his arm.

“Lose the shirt!” he ordered.

“What?”

“Let them see. Let them know. They're your friends and they care.”

“What?”

Fenris almost smirked, but instead he huffed in annoyance.

“The scars. Do not hide them. Do not fear their gaze.”

“I don't fear anything, Fenris. These scars make people uncomfortable.”

The elf widened his eyes and shook his head.

“You are unbelievable.”

The warrior got closer, removed his gauntlets and tangled his fingers in the rough fabric of the shirt before pulling it until Anders was finally bare chest in front of him.

“They're part of you and your story, as are mine, and Hawke's. People without scars are uninteresting. There are no stories to tell about them. There are stories about you, Anders.”

Fenris knew the mage never spoke about his past. While Fenris complained about his life as a slave, the abomination talked about the Circle but never talked about _his_ life in the Circle. Stories were to be extracted from him with lots of questions, a bit of alcohol when Justice allowed it and sometimes blackmail.

“Why did they do it, mage? Because you escaped?”

“Because I escaped after I… injured some templars. One of them wanted revenge for a scar on his pretty face.”

“Do they allow this often?”

“Of course not. He was 'fired'. Or I guess they sent him in another Circle and pretended he was fired. Things like that are forbidden – on the paper. I can't say I have met only bad templars. Some are decent men, but they can't do much about… these things, and don't even bother to try, so afraid to be punished.”

“So it was a punishment for you as well?”

“Are you going to say I deserved it?” Anders suddenly cried out, his eyes turning blue slowly.

“No. I just want to understand how it works outside of Tevinter.”

“You've seen it. In the Gallows.”

“I have seen nothing more than Ser Thrask trying to save blood mages from certain death. I have seen Cullen...”

“Oh Maker, so all the templars are good people because Thrask had a daughter who happened to be a mage and...”

“A blood mage. Blood mages are everywhere in Kirkwall. Templars are needed here so the mages couldn't do to anyone else what I have suffered.”

While Fenris expected Anders to get angry again, the mage just closed his eyes, breathed in deeply and shook his head.

“Fenris. Mages didn't do this to you. People did. And that's not the same thing.”

“You speak nonsense.”

“Do I?” the mage asked, tilting his head with a light smile, as if he knew things Fenris could never understand.

Fenris raised both his eyebrows and Anders nodded before he turned on his heels and joined his friends.

“Hey, Broody? coming?” a voice called from the water, though the dwarf's heads was barely noticeable upon the surface of the water.

Fenris huffed in annoyance. However, he had come to enjoy this a little too much. Bad jokes, drinking with another, a knock on his door because someone, somewhere, wanted to check he was well, or propose a Wicked Grace night, or drag him along in some crazy quest and…

“Come on, Fenris!”

The elf smiled and removed his armor, ready to joined his friends in water, in alcohol, in laughter, and everything that would create memories he'd cherish until the end. He had a quest on his own, but nothing prevented him to enjoy life until he'd kill his former master. What he would do after that was mystery but Danarius' end was near. He could feel it. And somehow, he was right.

 

 

Only one week after that, he received a letter from Varania. He recognized her name, for he had seen it on papers before, while he was looking for her with Aveline's help. But he could not read the letter and the anger that rose in his chest was a poison that left him brooding in his mansion again.

A leaf fell from the roof and ended up in his hair. He shoved it with an annoyed snarl, looking at the giant hole in the roof that let everything through. Heat in Summer, the smell of flowers in Spring, leaves and rain in Autumn and cold in Winter. Once it even snowed – it was rare in Kirkwall – and Fenris had decided he'd never get that hole repaired, for he had never seen such beautiful thing in his life.

“Time's rushing” he commented out loud, looking at the dead leaf on the floor. “For all of us, I guess.” he added with a thought for the mage.

Everything seemed to be back to normal, after all. Blue cracks, weak mage who couldn't control the demon within him, running out of mana. Those were familiar situations. Fenris sighed, looking at the hall entrance. He was sitting on the balustrade on top of the stairs, his legs hanged loose, a bottle of wine in equilibrium next to him. He knew he should demand help to read the letter, though he had never said to anyone he actually couldn't read. It seemed no big deal for people in Kirkwall like it was perfectly normal to be able to decode some strange symbols on paper. They had no idea how precious this ability was.

Fenris' thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door and he sighed silently. Usually, people knew better than to disturb him while he was brooding. Didn't get that nickname from nowhere. But whoever it was outside, they didn't give in easily, knocking again, and again, with more violence than necessary. Finally, Fenris heard someone grumbled and he recognized the voice as another brutal knock made the wood tremble.

“That door did nothing to you, mage.” the elf cried as he took a sip of wine.

“May I come in?”

“I wasn't aware my silence could be ambiguous to you. This answer to that question is clear. Leave.”

But the door handle turned and the mage entered.

“Venhedis, mage!”

“I know.”

Anders searched for Fenris until he looked up and found him above.

“Drinking wine there? Don't you fear to fall?”

“No.”

“Why are you brooding again?”

“I don't brood.”

“Of course not. Never.”

“What are you doing here, mage?”

“Check on you, of course. Hawke, Aveline, Sebastian and Merrill left Kirkwall for a few days. Varric waited for you last night. He wondered why you didn't come at Wicked Grace. You never miss Wicked Grace nights.”

“I apparently do.”

“Well, I assure you I missed you. The evening with Varric and Isabela was… awkward.”

“Would have been less awkward, had I been there?”

“If you put it that way, I must say 'no'. But they dare less dirty jokes when you're around.”

Fenris shrugged and swallowed the rest of his wine before he let the bottle fall and it scattered at the mage's feet. Anders frowned but dared no comment, instead he reached the stairs and joined Fenris. His leg passed the railing and he got a moment of hesitation before the other one did as well. His whole body was tensed and he looked down with widened eyes.

“What do you want?” Fenris barked.

“Giving you a cure.”

“For what?”

“For loneliness.”

“There is no cure for loneliness.”

“There is. It's called company. And I am company. Not the most pleasant to you, I know but...”

“Hush. I did not ask a cure for silence.”

“Fair enough.”

They remained like that for a while. Both of them were thinking about this night where they had watched the sleeping city by the window. They shared something at that moment. They shared more through silence that they ever had through words. Finally, Fenris sighed and handed Anders the letter he had kept in his pocket. The mage carefully took it and his eyes scanned the page.

“So that's the reason why you're brooding? Shouldn't you be happy?”

“Happy?”

Fenris stared at the letter, at the symbols he could not decode, at all that information so out of reach.

“Would you tell me what it says?” Fenris asked, closing his eyes so he could not read pity in the mage's.

“Of course.” Anders answered in an equal voice. “Your sister is in Kirkwall. She'll be waiting for you at the Hanged Man if you want to meet her.”

Fenris felt a hand on his and he opened his eyes. The mage opened his fist, untangling his fingers gently, and put the letter in his palm. Fenris looked up. There was no pity in amber eyes.

“You should be happy about it, Fenris. I would kill to see my sister once again. Or to know that she's still alive at least.”

“You have a sister?”

Anders cleared his throat and shrugged. But Fenris grabbed the hand that was drawing away from his and tilted his head. The mage gave a little smile and nodded in agreement. finally he was going to talk about his past.

“I escaped for the first time after six months in the Circle. They caught me, of course. I remember they asked why I escaped. I was just a boy and I answered that I wanted to go home. They answered that the Circle was my home from now. But I think they didn't understand what was a home.”

Fenris raised an eyebrow and waited.

“I returned home, actually. Once. But this was no home.”

“Why?”

“Because they left. They had all left and what remained of home was just a house. Family is not always what you want it to be. I felt abandoned. Betrayed, just like the day my father turned me in. But I couldn't hate them, I couldn't blame them. You once wanted to know what you lost. There it is, at your reach. Wasting that opportunity would make you a bigger fool than I.”

Then he just turned, passing his legs above the railing and jumped on the floor before going down the stairs, reaching the door and opening it. But as he was about to leave, he froze, turned on his heels and looked up at Fenris.

“If you ever wish to learn to read, I'd be happy to help.” he added with a wink before he left.

Fenris sighed and waited, and waited and waited for Hawke's return with some growing impatience. When he heard about the Champion of Kirkwall being in town, he hurried to the estate and knocked at the door. He explained quickly the situation and they headed for the Hanged Man. Fenris couldn't miss the sidelong looks Hawke gave him. What would have it been, if Anso hadn't hired Hawke? If it had been anyone else?

They met Anders on the way, who was talking to Lady Elegant. When he saw Fenris, he furrowed his brows and the elf looked away, clearing his throat as he glanced at the potion Lady Elegant was handing to the mage. At least he may have done something nice for the mage once in his life.

“Hawke, Fenris! Lady Elegant just...”

“Anders, would you accompany us inside?” Hawke interrupted, gesturing towards the Hanged Man. “Varania, Fenris' sister, is supposed to be in there. It could be a trap. We don't turn your help aside.”

“Of course.” Anders shoved the potion in his bag and followed them inside: he would talk about it later, surely.

Fenris recognized her. That was all he could say. He recognized her, from his past. Memories were reaching his mind in a blur. He recovered a piece of himself. His name. Before he was a toy, a pet in a mage's hands. Before he was nothing but a weapon, a tool used to kill and frighten. 'Leto'. Such a sweet name for the innocent child he might have been ages ago. He was drowned into it. That must be why he didn't see it coming until Hawke warned him. The filthy smell of a magister that crossed the sea to take his pet back.

“Ah, my little Fenris. Predictable as always.”

Fenris stared at his former master's face and then lowered his head. His heart was falling in his chest. How could it hurt so much while he was about to fulfill his quest?

“I'm sorry it came to this Leto.”

'Leto'. A bound to his past, to a person he had never truly known, who betrayed him ruthlessly. A name for a weak one. Leto was taken. Leto was being made a slave until his identity was stolen. Fenris didn't want to be Leto anymore.

“You led him here!”

“Now, now, Fenris. Don't blame your sister. She did what any good Imperial citizen should.”

“I never wanted these filthy markings, Danarius. But I won't let you kill me to get them.”

The laugh that escaped the magister's mouth seemed full of secrets Fenris couldn't understand.

“Oh, how little you know, my pet.”

Fenris felt a pull at his markings and he glanced back. The mage was angry, it seemed, for he was glowing with intensity. But he didn't move, staring at Danarius with disgust. Hawke didn't wait to answer Danarius when he mentioned a new master.

“Fenris doesn't belong to anyone.”

“Do I detect a note of jealousy? It's not surprising. The lad is rather skilled, isn't he?”

Hawke was about to answer but Fenris activated his markings and everyone reached for their weapons as enemies were pouring from the stairs. Isabela and Varric joined in, while Anders – or Justice, Vengeance, whatever – dealt with the magister, trying to break his shield. The battle was rough, merciless, and they all ended up with wounds, covered with blood. As Fenris sliced an enemy in half, he finally looked around, searching for Danarius. He found him on the floor, Anders behind him, staff in hand.

“ **He is yours to kill.** ”

Fenris didn't hesitate. It was time to take his freedom.

“You are no longer my master” he said as he held the magister by the neck, ready to fulfill his purpose.

His hand phased through the skin and he tore what he could tear, spilling his former master blood with satisfaction. He was free. But his revenge was not over, he realized when he looked at his sister.

“I had no choice, Leto.”

“Stop calling me that!”

Leto was dead. Leto had been killed by Danarius. Fenris had killed Danarius. Fenris was strong, Leto was weak. The warrior didn't need the past if that was what it brought. No more of it. He would erase everything, should he kill his own sister to accomplish this.

“He was going to make me his apprentice. I would have been a magister.”

“You sold out your own brother to become a magister?”

Immediately, the blue glowing that had lit up the room fainted and the familiar voice that came from behind was as welcome as hated.

“Your sister's a mage? You bloody hypocrite! You really are just jealous.”

Oh Maker, this infuriating man didn't get anything. Blinded by his own views on magisters and magic. He was the one obsessed with it! Fenris didn't want to be involved in all this. Magic… how long would it hunt him? Varania tried to make excuses, but Fenris wasn't going to be influenced by a mage again. He was his own master now. His brand lit up blue. And Varania begged for Hawke's help.

“Wait! Don't kill her.”

Orders again. So much for authority, for selfish desires. Why would Hawke do this? Why was he trying to get involved?

“Why not? She was ready to see me killed! What is she to me other than just one more tool of the magisters.”

She was as mush as he wanted her to be. His heart was as cold as he wanted it to be. But he looked at her hair, her eyes, and he didn't see the woman that betrayed him. He saw the child that played with Leto. And he saw Leto who tried to protect her. Fenris didn't protect. Fenris was a weapon. No. Fenris was what he chose to be.

“This is your family, Fenris.”

It meant nothing to him. But he looked around him. He remember then, the look in Hawke's eyes as he talked about Carver, about his father, about his mother. And he stared at Anders, warm amber eyes. Anders. Now they were both bound to their true name, refusing be haunted by a past that brought only sadness. But there was no sadness when Anders talked about his family. Not at all.

“Get out!” he yelled at Varania.

She was about to leave but she turned on his heels and the moment she opened her mouth, Fenris knew he didn't want to hear what she wanted to say. Erase.

“You said you didn't ask for this. But that's not true. You wanted it, you competed for it. When you won you used the boon to have Mother and I freed.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

He felt the mage's eyes on him. Staring, judging.

“Freedom was no boon” was all he could hear when his sister answered and left.

It didn't taste like freedom at all. He glanced at his former master's corpse on the floor. So many years thinking about this moment, imagining it, waiting for it. And now…

“I thought discovering my past would bring a sense of belonging. But I was wrong. Magic has tainted that too.”

He tried not to look at Anders. But he did. And even though the mage's face was unreadable, he could see in his eyes how hurt he was. But Fenris was not angry anymore. He was tired of being angry.

“There is nothing for me to reclaim. I am alone.”

'There's no cure for loneliness'. Hawke tried to comfort him. And he let him do, this time. He had learned the value of friends, so he didn't flee. He let them all accompany him. Fenris was free now. And the mage would never be so.

“Let's go. I need to get out of here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't stop looking at Fenris' face when he sees Danarius in the Hanged Man. And the way he says "there is nothing for me to reclaim" Maker, my poor little heart was crushed! I swear it.  
> Anyway, Fenris is free now.  
> Next chapters are mostly already written. Shouldn't be too long to come.  
> I hope you liked it. As usual, feel free to comment!


	15. Show hatred, hide love

Anders was bored. Hawke did not ask him to come along on the last mission and asked Merrill instead. If he dared return injured, Anders would not heal him! He felt Justice grumble in his mind, the equivalent of a roll of his eyes. It was weird that Anders could still make a difference between his thoughts and Justice' while he was so influenced by the spirit when he was angry. Justice himself was poisoned by Anders' mind. When Justice came out, he deeply believed he was Anders. Maybe they were Anders together.

The mage shook his head to clear his head. Kirkwall was boring without Hawke, Isabela, or Varric. He even missed Fenris. They had left for a routine patrol at the bone pit, to make sure no other dragon would settle in.

He walked down the stairs, ready to go back home, and froze when he saw templars ahead. A patrol of seven men in grey and red armor, enough to arrest three or four mages. Anders knew something was going on and years before, he would have turned on his heels and walked away with a 'this is none of my concern'. But Justice felt the urge to help whomever it was in danger. A mage, probably.

The warriors were talking to a young elf, undoubtedly interrogating her. He was about to rush in the direction she suddenly pointed with her finger to help the runaway stranger, but he heard a scream on his right. He witnessed something far more urgent: a bandit was attacking a child. The young boy was looking around and his eyes met Anders'. A spell. A little spell, that was all it would take to save his life. But amber eyes turned to watch the templars and fear became stronger than anger. By the time Anders was making a decision, the boy found himself stabbed, his purse stolen, and the bandit had vanished.

Anders quickly walked toward the child and knelt at his side. He watched the wound he could easily heal. Somehow it was his fault; he could have beaten the rogue if he had used his magic, if he was not such a coward. But he looked again at the templars, still talking to the elf. One of them took a glance at him and saw the scene that was taking place. He began to walk towards Anders, who was still kneeling beside the wounded boy. A choice had to be made again, just like in the Deep Roads.

“My life should not be wasted so easily.”

But as he whispered this, he realized it almost suggested his life was more important than the boy's. Perhaps was he just afraid of the templars, in the end. The anger he carried towards them was fed by a deep fear he could not fight. The hatred was not even real. It was just pure fear that ran in his veins.

“I don't want to go back there” he murmured to the boy as an excuse. “I can't. I can't.”

But as the templar was approaching, Anders' hands were getting closer to the wound as well. Maker, was he so much desperate he would give his life away for a total stranger? How many people did he kill? Why save this one? Death was unfair. Anders had the power to restore the balance, somehow. But nothing he had done these past years in Kirkwall had made a difference. There were still hundreds of lost souls, starving to death in the streets of Darktown, slayed by bandits for the few goods they had, taken by illness only money could cure.

Maybe... maybe he could heal the boy and kill the templars. Let Justice free his power and kill them all, yes, kill them all. Murder. Vengeance.

But if he did not succeed, if Justice showed up and Anders was captured, what was waiting for him was Tranquility. And he'd rather die.

He did not doubt Hawke would do anything to prevent that from happening. But he was just a noble in Kirkwall, no matter how many lives he saved and how many people saw him as a hero. All he could do was killing Anders. That was all the apostate would ask, anyway. Better dead than Tranquil.

“Some things are worse than death” he murmured as he watched the agonizing boy.

But he could not help it. His hands started to glow and the wound began to heal slowly. When he was done, the boy woke up slowly, Anders smiling at him by his side.

“Please, find Garett Hawke and tell him I'm sorry to make him live this... again. Tell him not to do anything stupid.”

“Apostate!” the templar shouted at his collegues.

Anders did not move, struggling to contain Justice' instinct of defense. It was useless to do anything. There were seven of them and without Justice, Anders could do nothing. Soon, his magic was blocked and he just waited for the templars to reach him. He was knocked down by a boot and countless strong arms tried to put him up to his feet. He let them do, followed them without resistance. Since when was he so weak? Since when did he give up so easily? But he did not want to be made Tranquil. Everything but this. Alrik was dead and the Tranquility Solution might have been forgotten with him. If Anders was calm, he might still have a chance to escape later... once again. He would never be free. Fenris killed Danarius and wonn his freedom. Wherever Anders would go, it was just another place to hide, until the rest of his days. He was tired of this again. So, so tired.

He was put in a cell, without food or water and just a broken chamber pot. He was chained. Alone. It reminded him of his year in solitary, where he had prayed again and again to hear a voice, feel a touch, see a shadow. Anything but the dark and the silence. How many days, how many hours, how many months? He had lost sense of time. He was starving, he was thirsty. He was angry. He was afraid.

He thought of Hawke. Would he come for him? Somehow, he wished he would, even though he had never wanted him to be involved in his apostate life.

“Please don't leave me here. Please don't leave me here again. Please, I would do anything. Please.”

But there was no one to hear him. Had the boy warned Hawke? Maybe his friends had abandoned him again, just like in the Deep Roads. He felt Justice roaring at this idea.

“You know nothing of friendship!” Anders barked at the spirit inside of him as if he could speak with him. “They'll come, you'll see. I just have to wait a little longer.”

He had waited in the Deep Roads. He had thought they would come back for him. But they did not and he waited in vain. He could not waste any more time, any more false hope.

“Please don't leave me here.”

But they left him here. For too long.

 

Fenris was awaken by the door slamming against the wall and his name shouted. He fetched his sword immediately and prepared to fight until he recognized Hawke's voice. Damn, they returned from the mission a few hours ago, he needed to rest.

“Fasta Vas” he muttered before leaving his sword.

“Fenris!”

“Here!” he answered, reaching the stairs hurrily. “What's going on?”

“Anders.”

Hawke stopped at the middle of the stairs when Fenris appeared, sighing.What did the mage do again?

“He was taken by the templars.”

Fenris stayed still and stared at his friend, face blank. A lot of thoughts crossed his mind. Those he'd never speak.

“So what?” he asked, crossing his arms on his chest as if he could stop his heart from beating so fast and loud.

“We have to help him get out of there.”

“He belongs there, Hawke. He is a mage. Mages belong to the Circle.”

'They do' Fenris repeated in his mind. 'They do. Yes, they do.'

“Just don't” Hawke threatened, anger burning in his eyes. “I'm not asking for your opinion. I need your support in this. After what you said in the Hanged Man, I thought...” he shook his head and sighed. “You don't wanna get involved, that's fine” he said in a harsh voice, staring at the elf. “But don't you dare call us 'friends' again.”

Maker, Fenris did not know why he was saying these things. Maybe because he deeply believed them. Had it been another mage in the Gallows. But not the healer. Not Anders. Not the blighter foolish abomination who saved his unworthy life.

“I'll help you” he finally said, looking away.

“Apparently it's been four days now. A boy found me when I returned from the Bone Pit and told me what happened. Fenris, what if... what if they made him Tranquil? Justice...”

“The mage would not let that happen, should he die to prevent it.”

Fenris realized it was no comfort for Hawke. But somehow, it was for the elf. He'd rather see Anders dead than the templars' slave, as the apostate called the Tranquils. Should he see Anders made Tranquil, he would crush his heart out of mercy, at any cost.

“We can't involve Aveline, Sebastian or Merrill, Fenris said as he put his armor on. Isabela and Varric are...”

“Yes. Varric managed to contact some 'friends' within the Gallows. We'll receive help.”

“Good.”

They left immediately.

Fenris had said he found the Gallows looked too much like a prison. It was true. He could not help imagining the mage chained there, beaten, maybe. And then... then his forehead burnt with the sign of Tranquility. The blue in his eyes vanishing as any feeling. The Fade taken away from him, his healing magic stolen from his kind soul. Fenris could not let that happen. 'I hate what you are and what you do. Often what you say. But not who you are'. Maybe that was part of a whole. His magic made him who he was. He always used it to help people, after all.

“Hawke?” he asked on the boat that was taking them all to the Gallows.

“Hmm?”

Fenris cleared his throat and got closer so that only the warrior would hear.

“We'll get him out of there. At any cost.”

“Yes” Hawke confirmed as if Fenris asked a question.

“No, you don't understand” Fenris added, grasping his arm firmly. “This time, Anders is more important, you understand?”

Fenris knew those who befriended an apostate were punished as well. But he was not afraid. This time he was willing to make the sacrifice. It was his turn to show he had something more than hatred in his heart, that he was worthy of the healer's life, even if he was not able to ease pain and save dozens of people.

“I understand, Fenris.”

The boat reached the Gallows and they moved silently in the courtyard, melting in the darkness.

“Hawke!”

“Keran.”

The boy approached them and they shook hands. Keran had a debt since Hawke saved him from blood mages. It was strange that he was willing to free an apostate to pay his debt, but he had met Anders and only the healer could have persuaded the templars he was not possessed. It was because of the mage he could keep his job. It seemed all Kirkwall had been helped by Anders.

“They didn't let me reach the cell, so I could not see him but I can tell you where your friend is and how to avoid guards and watches. Let's go somewhere quiet.”

 

Anders had lost hope. He thought he'd die here. Maybe they forgot he was here. Maybe they just waited him to starve to death and then claim they did not kill him on purpose. Anders could not move. He was so weak every breath was demanding energy. All he wanted now was water, he dreamed of it, was obsessed with it, needed it so deeply he was ready to deal with a demon. Or maybe not. He had managed, on a rainy day, to catch a few drops rolling down the walls of his cell. But it was not enough.

He thought he heard a key in the door lock but could not be sure of it. Then his name was whispered by a low growling voice and he felt the proximity of lyrium nearby.

Fenris looked at the chains at Anders' wrist and shuddered. Isabela pushed him gently so she could reach the locks. It did not take time for her to release the mage, but he did not move. Keran would not be able to delay the guards any longer, they had to move quickly. The elf grabbed Ander's arm, leaned down as he pulled him and almost shoved him on his shoulder.

“We should move on” he simply said.

Hawke frowned before Fenris' lack of gentleness but knew there was no time for this, so he just nodded and, hand on his sword, led the group out of the cells. The mage was so light on his shoulder Fenris doubted he was carrying him, if it was not for the smell of herbs and the slow breath next to his hear.

They almost ran to the boat and left the Gallows hurrily. Surely they would take time to thank Keran later. For now, they needed a safe place for the apostate.

“He can't go at my estate, Hawke claimed immediately. It will be the first place they're going to search.”

“What about the Blooming Rose?” Isabela suggested with a big smile.

“Are you certain they're gonna look for him?” Varric asked. “Cullen himself said Blondie had never been seen like a threat.”

“Because he did not know he carried a demon” Fenris growled.

“Not now, Broody.”

“Meredith tolerated Anders and Merrill because of my reputation but now that the templars know who they are - or at least Anders - , she won't risk her own reputation and authority to stop them.”

Hawke glanced at Fenris and the elf curled his nose. He looked at the mage lying on the floor, his head rolling at each wave that shook the boat. He knew well where this was going. Again.

“I have paid my debt” he said in a harsh tone. “I don't owe him anymore.”

He had freed an abomination from the Circle. He was not going to do anything more for the mage. But he was still watching him, so defenseless, so weak. And he remembered the scars, the fear in his eyes, the determination in his tone when he talked about mages' rights. Everything about Anders was annoying because Fenris did not know how to feel, and didn't want to feel what he knew he truly felt. But for once, he spoke what he thought.

“I will watch over him.”

He looked at Hawke and saw his hesitation. Varric reacted the same way. They did not trust him. He could not blame them, the elf and the mage hated each other for so long now. Even Hawke had witnessed how far Fenris' love could go. Not far. Not as far as his hatred. But Fenris was tired of hating someone like him. It became harder and harder to keep this bitterness inside of him. He had made it a way of living and it seemed the abomination showed him another path. He had to chose now whether he wanted to love or to hate. All this time he thought love was a weakness. But it was too hard to love and too easy to hate.

“Worry not. The mage will be safe with me.”

“Water.”

They all turned their gaze to watch Anders, who had opened his amber eyes.

“Water” he repeated until Hawke knelt beside him to make him drink.

“Anders? Are you hurt?”

“I'm all right.”

“Of course he is” Fenris commented sarcastically, handing Hawke a healing potion with a heavy look.

“You're a bottle of lyrium. Why are you talking?” Anders spoke with a smirk, looking at Fenris.

“Hush” the elf answered, hiding his smile.

They left the boat and made their way to Hightown.

“Are you sure about it, Fenris? So close to the Chantry?”

“No one knows the mansion is inhabited anyway. It'll be okay.”

“I'll ask Orana to cook some soup and bring it.”

Anders, on his shoulder, moaned when he turned quickly on his heels to reach the manor. He entered and climbed directly the stairs before leaning the mage on the bed.

“And now?” he asked with a sigh.

“Lyrium” Anders whispered in his semi-consciousness.

“Venhedis, mage!”

“Fasta Vas, elf” Anders replied in a mutter. “See? I can speak your language too. Lyrium” he repeated again.

“I can't allow this, mage. What you need is food and water, not poison.”

“Then leave” Anders moaned, his eyes still closed. “You're making me want you. I hate it. Leave.”

Fenris widened his eyes, then looked at his markings. It had not occurred to him his presence was such a trouble for the mage. But he came to understand what he was supposed to do if he wanted to stay - and, surely, he did. He got closer to the mage, sat on the edge of the bed, and activated the brands before taking Anders' hand again. Something stirred inside of him this time; something new and soft. Anders' hands were always cold, as if life was abandoning them for the people they healed. These hands were precious, Fenris realized as he looked at the slender fingers of the man.

“I won't leave, mage.”

Anders'gaze met his and Fenris cleared his throat as he remembered their little talk in the Bone Pit. Anders had wanted him to stay after the night they shared. And maybe Fenris had too.

“It hurts.”

“You're hurt?”

“You are. The lyrium hurts. Stop glowing for me. Though I like when you're glowing. It's beautiful. I like light. I hate darkness. I hate silence. And loneliness. I hate them all to make me fear this. I'll kill them all. I'll murder them. If only I had lyrium brands I'd crush their hearts, yeah, all of them. I'll kill them all. With light.”

Fenris breathed slowly. The mage was raving, but Fenris understood. He had the same thoughts when he escaped. Until he finally reached is goal, with the mage's help.

“Hush, mage. You will have your... vengeance.”

Anders opened his eyes and looked at the elf. They stared at each other for a while. They shared something. They shared their hatred but for once, it was not each other they hated, but their true persecutor.

“Fenris.”

“Hmm?”

But the mage didn't add anything, muttering his name again. Then the elf heard a knock and waited for Hawke to come. He appeared with the promised soup and Fenris stepped back so that Hawke could replace him.

“How are you, Anders?” he asked with a gentle voice.

“Ribs broken” he just answered.

“Templar?”

“Not really, no” was all Anders agreed to say.

Hawke was gentle, soft, as he helped Anders to drink. His hands explored the mage's body to look for bruises and cuts. He was talking with a sweet voice. Anders stared at him as if he was an angel fallen from heaven. Fenris wished he'd receive this glance. He almost snarled when Hawke's hands took off the mage's shirt. They had been lovers, they had been happy together. How did it truly end?

“Call if you need anything” Fenris said before turning on his heels.

“Fenris, stay!”

The elf ignored Hawke and left the room. Once alone, he put a hand on his chest, feeling his quick heartbeat. He could not see Anders leaning on this bed, so weak, and wrists damaged by the chains.

“He is a mage” he whispered. “He belonged there.”

But the mage did not deserve this. He did not deserve one single bruise, no matter how hard Fenris tried to convince himself this was the way it should be. The system worked. Everything must be done in order to prevent another magister society in all Thedas. At all costs.

Hawke joined him soon after, raising an eyebrow when he saw him drinking again, alone in the kitchen. Fenris ignored his silent question and spilled more wine in his glass.

“Care to share?” Hawke asked with a faint smile.

Fenris handed him the bottle and they both fell silent for almost an hour, until Hawke sighed and stared at the elf.

“Thank you for your help, Fenris.”

The elf did not answer. Words were useless, most of the time. He did not bother with them. So he nodded and looked away.

“Don't leave him alone” Fenris suddenly said. “He hates being alone.”

'I needed a place. Do you think I've found one?' Fenris had welcomed the company.And it led to this.

“He has fallen unconscious.”

“But you should be there when he wakes up.”

Hawke gave him a sidelong look and shrugged.

“Is it... Is it only about your debt?”

Fenris glowered at him.

“What do you mean?”

“You said you loved him. I believed you but now I'm not so sure. Your debt is paid. Is everything going to be back the way it was before?

“Nothing had changed” Fenris lied.

“By now, you must see what an injustice the templars are.”

The mage had suddenly appeared at the doorway, leaning against the door frame. He was glowering at Fenris, arms crossed on his wounded chest.

“Must I? Fenris asked, imperturbable. I see templars trying to control what they have good reason to fear.”

They had good reasons to fear Anders. Yes, they had. Fenris knew the man himself would never hurt anyone who did not deserve it, but the demon in his soul would not care of what Anders would do or not. And it had already been proved Anders could not control it.

“But they go too far” Anders claimed immediately, anger rising in his heart.

Fenris could not deny it. But blood mages went too far. It was all a question of balance, of people in their individual. And Fenris had seen more blood mages than cruel templars, after all. Keran, Cullen, Thrask. They were here to protect mages from the other templars who would abuse their power. The system worked. It was a matter of 'the less of two evils'.

“Talk to Hawke about his mother. Ask him who went 'too far.'”

Hawke was about to respond but Anders stepped forward.

“You can't hold all mages responsible for that!” he shouted.

If only more mages stood against blood magic in Tevinter, Fenris could have believed Anders. But as soon as mages were free, they did not fear anything anymore and they chose the easiest way to get what they wanted. Slaves, power, money. Immortality and necromancia.

“It doesn't take all mages to cause this. Only the weak ones.”

The hurt look on Anders' face was like a fist crushing his heart. Maker, why did he always feel obliged to stand for his believes when they did not even seem accurate? Anders lowered his head. Fenris could not let him know how soft he'd become on him.

“Not all mages are weak.”

“True” Fenris confirmed, emptying his glass of wine. “Bethany, for instance, was not weak.”

“You specifically don't mention me.”

“That's also true.”

“I'll prove to you that I'm not weak.”

“Prove it to yourself. You're convincing no one else.”

Hawke rose on his feet and his fist hit the table without so much violence.

“Stop it! Anders, you need to rest. I leave now. I'll bring you more food in the morning.”

“Good night, Hawke. And thank you.”

Hawke nodded, giving Fenris a warning look.

“Fenris... behave.”

“Tell this to the healer.”

Hawke seemed more surprised than angry at the reply and smiled briefly before leaving the mansion. Fenris and Anders stayed still a little while, and then the mage disappeared in the bedroom again. Fenris stayed until there were no more bottle of wine to fetch. He considered briefly going down to the cellar but instead he rose on his feet and walked to the bedroom. He found the mage standing by the fire, looking at the flames. He had put his shirt back on, but not his shabby coat. It was only when Fenris got closer that he saw the feathers burning in the hearth. He remained silent, still he did not quite understand this gesture.


	16. Leaving now meant keeping a little piece of his heart safe

“Thank you” Anders said with a tired look at the elf. “I did not expect you to come for me.”

“Hawke asked for my help. It seemed I could not refuse.”

The mage didn't seem surprised, and that hurt Fenris so deeply he thought he was going to die right now. But he didn't.

“Of course. Thank you anyway.” Anders simply said.

“You're welcome, mage. How do you feel?”

Anders did not answer. He knew the elf did not care. He had told not a few minutes ago he would have let him rot in his cell in the Gallows if it was not for Hawke he had helped freeing him.

“Were you fortunate this time again?” Fenris asked.

Anders raised his eyebrows and gave him a questioning glance.

“You said to Sebastian you had been fortunate.”

“I have.”

The tone was firm, just like when Anders spoke about his time in the Circle of Ferelden, his Harrowing, his escapes. These talks always put him off.

“Then you consider being beaten is being fortunate?”

“I was barely beaten. If you compare to what you actually may suffer in the hands of templars, then what I lived is nothing. We are prisoners. We can't complain. We can't defend ourselves. Do you expect templars not to take advantage of all this?”

“Have you not been beaten or raped?”

“I have been lashed once. The templar who did this was fired the next morning, but there are others to replace people like him. And there are secrets in the Tower, you know. Dark secrets. I have never been raped, for I was always willing to give my body away.”

“What do you mean?”

“They do what they want. It hurts less if you don't struggle and if you try to enjoy it.”

Fenris cleared his throat and looked away.

“The naughty mage and the helpless recruit?”

“Exactly.”

Now Fenris was able to catch all the little hints. Anders stared at the fire. The elf disappeared for a while and he felt empty. The presence of lyrium nearby was as comforting as upsetting. Four days in that cell without a drop of lyrium had been a torture. Now he was better, just because of the warrior's presence. Again, he hated the elf for making himself necessary. But Anders knew it was more. He enjoyed Fenris' presence. Of course they disagreed. But it seemed it did not even matter they were rivals. Fenris, deep inside, was a kind soul. He had suffered too much, that was all. His opinions were blinded by bad experiences. Anders could not imagine losing his memory because of a ritual a magister inflicted to his slave. He too would hate mages. Did he not hate templars for what he suffered? All of them? Kill them all, yes, kill them all.

“I have poultices.”

Anders startled and looked at the intruder, bottles and bandages in the arms. How many times the barefoot elf would sneak up like that?

“I can wait until I am able to heal myself.”

“Poultices ease the pain” Fenris simply said, looking at his stuff and sorting the vials, leaving some on the bedside table.

Anders could not deny every breath was a suffering, so he just nodded. Then Fenris raised a hand. It was the second time he did it; the first time, Anders had ignored it. But as he watched the dark and blue fingers finally cleared of the gauntlets, he knew it was no longer useful to deny he wanted them to touch his skin and stroke his soul. He reached the elf, slipped his own fingers in Fenris' and let the elf guide him downstairs. Fenris put his materials on the table, near the basin of water he had prepared, and waved at Anders so he would sit next to him.

“Take your shirt off.”

“Straight to the point, then?” Anders teased with a smirk.

Fenris sighed but his lips curled up a bit as the mage obeyed him. The memories of _this_ night lingered in his mind and he shook briefly his head to remain focus. The bruises on the healer's torso were enough, anyway, to keep him busy with other thoughts.

“What did they do to you?” he asked as he began to clean the cuts with clear water.

“They locked me up in a cell. Alone. Again. I broke my own ribs, hoping they would send someone. Sometimes a kind soul – if it exists among the templars – would send a healer. A damaged prisoner would stain their reputation. But nobody came. Ever. But it lasted only a few days thanks to you and Hawke. And Isabela. Remind me to give her a kiss for breaking those damn chains.”

Fenris' eyes lowered to look at the wounded wrists and he started to bandage them.

“And what do _I_ get ?”

“You don't want anything from a mage” Anders spat suddenly.

Then he looked away and sighed. Maker, he hated hating.

“I apologize.” he said, with the same tone Fenris used sometimes.

“It's all right. I'm used to it” Fenris answered with a brief shy smile.

“So what do you want, Fenris?”

“What do you have to offer that you did not already give away?”

“That's a good question! Seems all I have to give is a kiss” he joked.

“That's fine to me.”

Immediately, Anders' smile faded as he tried to understand Fenris' grin. What was he supposed to answer? Had it been anyone else he wouldn't have even hesitated. Flirting was always amusing, despite his reluctance bedding strangers now. He shuddered when Fenris' hands brushed his skin while he was applying the poultice and green eyes met amber ones. Anders cleared his throat and looked away.

Fenris never thought he'd see the mage blush, for he seemed depraved enough and had as many standards as Isabela. He finished his task and then handed Anders his shirt.

“Thank you” the mage murmured, putting it on.

He nodded at the elf and returned to the room, unaware that Fenris followed him. He sat on the bed, looked at his bare feet and sighed. The whole mansion seemed heavy with melancholia.

“Mage, I... I lied.”

This time, Anders did not seem startled. Maybe he was getting used to this after all. There was something beautiful in the silence despite the elf's presence. As if Anders could always imagine Fenris behind him, watching over him silently. Anders stared at him with surprise and waited for him to go on.

“I... really could not stand the idea of you being there. I still believe mages should be watched. They are dangerous. You are dangerous. But I can't allow... I will not let them have you, mage. Never again. Not this way.”

Anders did not hesitate this time. He rose on his feet, stepped forward and joined their lips. His hand began to stroke white hair while Fenris' arms wrapped him as their tongues met. Anders liked the proximity of the lyrium but he realized he liked more the closeness of Fenris. He liked the softness of his skin, his gentle touch, the way his hair tickled his face, his low growling voice, the taste of wine and the scent of iron and blood. He liked the few smiles he offered, the emotions his eyes showed while his mouth said otherwise, the way his nose curled when he drank bad wine. He liked it all. His bare foot, his spiky armor, his rare jokes and his snarls. And, Maker, he liked kissing him.

But Anders broke the kiss and stepped backwards. They could not be doing this. Mages were more important than some gorgeous elf who crossed his path. Revolution waited for him to fight. He could not make up with the enemy.

“You are not my enemy” he whispered.

“I am not.”

Fenris did not let him the chance to draw away; he grasped his collar and pulled him for another kiss. Anders stopped struggling inside and drowned into the feelings that spread in his body. Justice had not returned, Anders' connection to the Fade still blocked. He enjoyed being alone with the elf, with no 'he is nothing compared to our cause' feeling. Though something lingered: the elf had left him. Anders couldn't stand being abandoned. Not now.

“Fenris, stop! I… I am not the same person as before.”

“Glad you're not. From what I've heard from Isabela, you were...”

“Stop!” Anders pushed Fenris back, who had started kissing his neck, his intentions clear enough. “I mean that I can't do this again. I can't sleep with someone, leave in the morning and move on. I'm not that Anders anymore. If you're...”

“I recall some people saying that you spent quite the nights at the Blooming Rose.”

“I could not stand the loneliness. It doesn't mean anything happen those nights.”

“Nothing happened?”

“Nothing. Is this jealousy? Of course not, We're not 'together' are we? We may be, but just for tonight, right?”

“I won't tell you to leave, Anders.”

“You left, last time.”

“But this is my mansion, I won't be leaving it. If you wish to stay, you may.”

“Do _you_ want me to stay?”

Fenris stepped back, eyebrows furrowed, glaring at the mage.

“I was never given much choice before. I'm still not sure what it is I want. I know I want you.” his tone became suddenly softer, his deep growling voice becoming honey Anders craved for. “I want you by my side, not only tonight, but tomorrow, and the day after. I have never… I never take a look at my future. I try not to. But right now, I know I want you. And if you wish, you may stay here, and consider this mansion as yours, as your home.”

“An apostate doesn't have a home, Fenris”

“I am your home. And you are mine.”

Anders kissed as he never did when the elf leaned again and joined their lips. Once again, there were no questions, no answers. Only this deep desire that was eating him. His hands began to explore the elf's body, unaware of the armor he did not take time to remove. Only the elf's hands were free of the gauntlets and lyrium branded fingers started to stroke his back under the fabric of his shirt. Fenris felt the scars under his touch and anger rose in his chest. His nails gently scratched the skin as he wrapped his arms tighter around Anders. Never let him go.

Anders shuddered and untangled the armor with impatience. It fell to the floor in a quiet noise. Fenris grabbed his collar again and, with a quick rotation, pushed gently Anders against the wall, leaning against him so their groins were brushing at each movement. Anders broke the kiss to moan and Fenris took the advantage to lick his throat. Soon, it was not enough. They both felt the other's arousal. The mage saw an ear and, immediately, his mouth claimed it, kissing, licking, sucking. Fenris tensed and pushed his own body closer to Anders', if possible. He wanted to melt with him, to feel his skin under his, to make him scream, kiss him until none of them could breathe. He shoved him to the bed and removed the shirt. He leaned down on him and felt Anders' stubble stroke his cheek. The sensation seemed to run down his body, right to his groin, and he began to move above Anders.

This was different, for both of them. While Anders was used to sex, he knew he had never experienced this. He was going to make love, just like his time with Hawke. And he really thought that after Hawke, he would never feel it again. But here he was, and it felt even stronger, better, deeper, as he looked at green eyes and suddenly found where he belonged to: in a cranky elf's arms. Fenris felt quite the same, though this time he had no intention to leave, and it changed everything. He had left Hawke, and then left the mage. This time, they would stay, both of them, they were going be linked beyond everything.

“Clothes” Anders muttered as Fenris was still moving above him, scratching his own chin on Anders' stubble – Maker did he like this infuriating stubble!

Fenris snarled as the breath tickled his sensitive ear. Somewhere at the back of his mind, he could feel something roaring, so he kissed Anders again to make it stop. Their tongues played and hips followed soon after. Anders arched his back below him and a long moan escaped his mouth as his fingers squeezed Fenris' shoulders. The elf bit the throat presented to him.

This time, he wanted to claim the mage. He wanted to possess and give at the same time, not being given. He wanted to be the one who would link them, who would claim the mage as his. He wanted everything and he was suddenly afraid of how strong these emotions were, buried deep inside him for too long: now they were free and he was confused.

“Fenris? Are you alright?”

Anders kissed his chin, looking up at him with concern. The elf realized he had stopped moving, staring at Anders, at his deep warm amber eyes, his golden hair he suddenly stroke, at his long eyelashes that fluttered before Fenris' immobility. His gaze went down at his chest, thick blond hair here and there, scars everywhere. He kissed the mage again. But they both knew something just changed. It was no physical desire. It was deeper, for both of them. It was no love, no romantic feeling, no need. Something far more important that was eating them down. Because they knew whatever they would started would end too soon. With agony. But it was worth a shot. Yes, it was worth it all.

Fenris unlaced Anders' trousers and removed his own leggings and tunic. The mage's body was so warm, while his hands were still cold on his skin. He leaned down and kissed again, deeply, desperately, licking the sweaty skin, calling for moans, while his own arousal became almost painful.

“Fenris” Anders muttered. “Take me. What are you waiting for?”

Fenris shook his head. He wanted this to last, he wanted the apostate to beg, to cry for him, he wanted to feel him move below him and asking again and again. But Fenris could not fight his own desire. He presented his fingers to Anders who licked them with attention, staring at him in the process. Fenris' breath became heavier, quicker, as he anticipated what was coming. Yes, he wanted to feel Anders all around him, to make him his, to mark his body. He leaned down and bit again the throat, sucked hard, as his slick fingers made their way to Anders' arse. The mage raised his knees and shuddered in anticipation, moaning at the same time because of the elf's teeth teasing his sensitive skin. His own hand lowered to Fenris' cock and he stroke him slowly, to make him understand what he thought about this slow pace. Fenris growled against his throat and immediately pushed a finger inside Anders, who arched his back with a long moan. He began to move his hips to meet the fingers.

“More” he whimpered. “More, Fenris, more!”

Fenris pulled off and reached for a bottle he had left here earlier when he had taken what he needed: it would just do. He uncorked it, poured the thick liquid on his fingers and finally obeyed, pushing two fingers in, avoiding the spot he knew would make the mage scream in pleasure. He saved this for later. When he estimated his work was done, he pulled his fingers back and Anders snarled in regret.

“I'm afraid your gratitude will not be enough. I saved your life: I want more than kisses” Fenris said with a smirk.

Anders smiled at him and lowered his eyes, finally admiring Fenris' body. It was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen and he quickly licked every centimeter of the lyrium skinned body, reversing their position so he could reach the cock, swallowing it in a second. The taste of lyrium lingered on his tongue. It was better than magic. Only flesh, natural warmth, boiling blood in their veins and ache in their groins. Fenris grasped Anders' hair and growled again. This voice always seemed to stroke Anders' soul and he smiled around Fenris, pulling away, to swallow again. He installed a rhythm and Fenris soon moaned again and again, until he pushed the mage.

“Enough” he panted, aware he would come too soon. “On your back, Amatus” Fenris whispered.

Anders' heart jumped in his chest and he stared at the elf for a second before he obeyed. Immediately, Fenris was above him again and the head of his cock teased his entry. He whimpered and tried to move. Fenris' hands reached his hips to steady his body, and he entered slowly, looking at Anders in the eyes, seeing the feeling he gave him. Anders' warmth wrapped him and a deep breath escaped his mouth as he pushed his length deeper and deeper into his mage. Then he just stayed still as the apostate closed his eyes. He ached to move but did not dare, waiting for Anders to be ready. The mage nodded and he started thrusting.

Never had he felt something like this. Never could he imagine such sensation would control his body. He thought he had felt it all with Hawke the first time, and the mage fucking him senseless not so long ago. But nothing could be compared to this, to be connected like this to someone, to claim them and, while claiming them, giving them the same pleasure, the same sensations.

Anders was lost somewhere in the pleasure, unable to think. Fenris' touch was gentle, his thrusting were deep, soft and every breath of the elf tickled his sweaty skin. He stared at emerald eyes as Fenris went deeper and deeper inside him until he reached this spot where everything came to chaos. A hand suddenly wrapped his length and Anders closed his eyes, nails digging in the blue tattoos in the elf's back.

“Maker! More, more, more.”

Fenris' scent, Fenris' skin, Fenris' breath. Wine, iron, lyrium. All about Fenris.

The other hand stroke the bandages at his wrists and the mage opened his eyelids to watch the elf again. Maker, if this moment could last forever.

Fenris quickened the thrusting, panting above him, kissing him each time he hit that spot that made the apostate scream in his arms, arching his back. His hand slid easily on Anders' cock now and he stroke even faster, harder, as he was aware he was about to come himself. And make the mage plainly his.

“I will never lose you again” he said when Anders came below him and the mage could do nothing but nod as he cried out in pleasure.

Fenris saw his end coming and he gave a few last thrusts. He screamed in Tevinter the words he ached to say all this time and leaned down against the mage, smelling the herbs and the poultices as he tried to catch his breath, his fingers still wrapped around a bandaged wrist. He would never allow this again. He kissed a slender finger and rolled on his side to let the mage rest.

“You're home now, mage.”

They stayed still for a few minutes. Then Anders sat up and began to put his clothes back on. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

“Mage?”

The apostate shuddered and did not answer, lacing his pants before rising to his feet.

“I need a bath.”

'Amatus'. It seemed it was kind of a joke. He had searched someone like Fenris for so much time, someone who would make him feel complete, who would take away the emptiness of his heart. Why did things have to get to this stage? Why Fenris, the mage-hater elf who fought against everything he stood for? Why the one who did not even seem able to love? Hatred, that was all the elf knew. Anders did not need more hatred. Fenris had left Hawke. He would leave Anders as well once again. The healer was able to face loneliness, but rejection was too much. Leaving now meant keeping a little piece of his heart safe. The tiniest, the only one that remained uninjured. Trust was too much to ask at this point.

“Let's end this now” he just said before leaving the room.

He ran down the stairs and Fenris could hear the door shut behind him. Was it what Hawke felt when he left the Amell estate that night? And what Anders felt as well? How could it hurt so much? Fenris was not the kind of person who begged to stay. He would not catch up the mage. He looked at the stars through the hole in the roof. The night was so quiet.

“Fasta Vas!” he shouted before dressing up and picking up his sword.

No matter what happened, he would not let the mage defenseless at night in the streets of Hightown. He hurriedly went out and looked at the darkness, searching for the familiar silhouette. He headed to Lowtown, his weapon ready in case of emergency. Little did he know how useless it was.

He quickly found Anders and shivered. He did not notice the night was so cold. Ice was spreading in his body as he stared at the apostate, covered with blood, surrounded by fire and corpses. He was looking for the blue cracks on his body but could not find them. If Justice did this, he was already gone.

“Mage?”

Anders turned cold eyes to him and he suddenly came back to his mind. A pain look crossed his face but it vanished in a second.

“They attacked me, Fenris. I only defended myself. It's over. I'm not going to be the victim anymore. I'll kill them all if I must.”

He turned on his heels and climbed down the stairs, leaving Fenris with the sight of all those bodies ripped apart, guts out. The elf tried to catch his breath and shook his head. Shivers ran down his spine.

“Anders” he muttered in a resigned tone, as if he already lost him.

Maybe he had, after all. Or maybe the mage was never his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it. Sorry they broke up again. It's like they don't want to be happy, both of them. I'm not guilty, it's their fault!  
> Feel free to comment,  
> Thank you for reading


	17. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hate me.

Fenris never thought he would see such a spectacle in his whole life. The sky tore apart in a green flash light and the building became ashes. Just like that.

'There are worse things than death.'

Fenris looked at Anders' back. He knew Hawke would not make his decision before asking him first. He heard Merrill answer that he should come with them. No matter how deep Fenris wished to give the mage another chance, he could not agree. He knew things would never be okay again. Anders was already dead, eaten by Vengeance. There was nothing left of the man he had fallen for, there was nothing left of the mage who sacrificed his life for his friends, his sleep for strangers, his coins for the poor. The man who would never hurt an innocent child.

There they were, in front of the Chantry, the ruins, the rocks and the broken city. Hawke had stood up for this city and failed. There was nothing left of the Kirkwall they knew, of the world they knew. Everything was going to change; Anders had completed his quest. Thedas was on the edge now. Fenris failed. Killing him, saving him, the same thing.

Fenris heard himself answer 'Kill him and be done with it' in a cold voice. The things he'd never say out loud. All those unspoken words that tortured his soul. Until the end. 'Please don't kill him. Please, oh Maker, if you hear, prevent this from happening. I would do anything. Whatever it takes.'

Dealing with the Maker or with a demon. Sacrifice. Deep desires. Deep anger.

Fenris had a promise to keep. He would never fail Anders, no matter how much he wished to believe there might still be a chance for both of them. Anders asked for this, just like Feynriel. He wished to die while he was still himself. A little bit. Less than a demon. More human. More Anders. Disheveled hair, shy smiles, lame jokes, shabby coat, dark feathers, scruffy boots, speeches and manifesto, words, words, words and so many words. Hope. Believing.

'You really believe don't you?'

'What are we talking about?'

'Believing. You do I can tell. With more fire than the sun. I miss it sometimes. Things being certain.'

'Some things are certain.'

'Not anymore.'

 

 

Fenris was aware it had to end up this way but somehow, maybe he deeply believed there was another way. He hoped the mage was not so weak. They had so little time. 'It's not a good story unless the hero dies.'

"For what it's worth, I'm glad it's you."

Fenris heard the hint. Anders was not mad at the elf for letting Hawke do it. Fenris was not strong enough for this. There was a time he all but wanted to crush the man's heart in his chest and spread his blood. Centuries ago. Thousand kisses ago.

Anders did not close his eyes, waiting for the knife to cut his flesh and reach his organs. Death. He did not fear death at this moment. He just wished he had more time, just a little more time, to kiss, to stroke lyrium-branded skin, to hear a growling voice saying he was home. But an apostate did not have a home.

 

A talk begun all this madness. A few words with so much power, as if the spirit who spoke them had cursed those who heard.

" I understand that you struggle against your oppression, mage."

"I avoid my oppression. That's not quite the same thing, is it?"

"Why do you not strike a blow against your oppressors? Ensure they can do this to no one else?"

'So many questions. Why bother with them?'

"Because it sounds difficult?"

" Apathy is a weakness."

"So is death. I'm just saying."

 

The knife was pushed in his back. The pain was far away, at the back of his mind, hidden by lingering memories. He felt his body fall to the floor. A tear escaped his eye as he let go of his last breath. He could almost see green eyes in front of him, and a mouth saying in a low tone 'It'll be all right, Amatus'. And finally, they all went to the Fade. Justice, Vengeance and Anders.

 

Fenris looked at Anders' body. He had made his decision long ago, somehow. He was not going to fight for mages. Why do it now that the one who started all this laid on the floor, lifeless? Fenris had lost his home. There was nothing left to care about, not even his friends. Were they ever his friends, after all? A blood mage, a Chantry boy, two rogues, a guard and a supposed hero who accepted to fight against the Templars, to free all the mages despite the chaos, the war, the victims.

" I cannot let you do this, Hawke. I won't let another magister imperium take place here."

"Fenris."

"You realize this is a cause you cannot hope to win?"

"Sorry, Fenris. Some causes are worth fighting for."

"I agree."

He walked away, passed Anders' body and felt his heart ache as it never did. He knew what it was that pushed him to betray his friends. He could not win the fight, after all. He would die for his believes, just as Anders. So alike, in so many ways, but the past they could not let go that separated them.

He turned on his heels, squatted next to the apostate and stroked Anders' cheek.

"Everything's all right now, Amatus. You are home. You are free."

He looked up at the sky. Flash red light, explosion. Death. So much death. Stop struggling. Everything was so quiet now, like a normal night. If he went at his mansion, maybe Anders would be there, bare foot, waiting for him with a book in his hands, and he'd spill a glass of wine for his lover, amber eyes shimmering in the candlelight.

He joined Meredith, offered his help, though he knew he was not doing this to help the crazy woman. He was not such a fool he could not see what she became. But if he had to choose a side, he knew where his destiny led him.

'There are worse things than death'.

There were. Yes, there were. This terrible emptiness that filled his heart was worse. Worse than anger, than the cold, than loneliness. It was excruciating agony.

 

Hawke felt his heartbeat quicken as the end was near. The world collapsed around him with the Chantry. Somehow, he knew he agreed to this by fighting by the mages' side. Again, it seemed like he started something he had no control over. Was it Anders' fault? Meredith's? Or even his own? Why seeking for a culprit?

Isabela took his hand and he smiled at her. Soon, all this would be over. And maybe, maybe he would take some rest.

 

As blood was leaving Fenris'body, a smile crossed is face. He looked at the sky again, clouds slowly stroking the stars. He heard Hawke's voice next to him.

"I'm sorry, Fenris."

"Thank you, my friend" he simply answered before closing his eyes and let the Fade take him.

His lyrium brands faded as life abandoned his body. He felt calm inside, just like in Anders' arms. Soon he'd be home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, the end is a bit fast. I hope you're not mad at me, it was written long ago and I don't feel like going on with this fiction, so I published the end as it was in the first place.  
> I know you waited a long time, only to see THIS and you must be terribly disappointed but I wanted to end this story and I had no choice, so  
> Thank you, for the comments, the kudos, for everything. It was an amazing experience.  
> See you soon.


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